Perfectly Circular
by Lady Featherweight
Summary: Hermione crashes her way through time and ends up in 1942 not really knowing how it happened. What will she do when she discovers her first friend is nothing more and nothing less but the future Dark Lord? And what secrets does Tom Riddle hide?
1. Chapter 1

Hey!

This is a time-travel fic although it doesn't involve time-turners nor intentional time traveling. I'm trying to keep the whole "time-travel" thing as realistic as time travel can be so that means that changing the past is NOT possible (much like what happened in Harry't third year - Buckbeak and Sirius had already been saved, the trio just didn't know it).

The story is already planed out and partially written (it still needs to be revised before publishing though), therefore I do plan on updating regularly.

That's all for this AN please enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling and I'm only playing around with them.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Hermione couldn't be having a worse day. Waking up in the morning she found her mother standing above her with a dark green summer dress in one hand and ballet flats in the other. Looking at her with sleepy eyes, Hermione couldn't help but think she was dreaming (having a nightmare to be more precise).

"Dear, please put these on and come to London with me. We need to spend some time together, and I really feel like shopping." A few seconds after that Hermione was finally able to process what her mother was saying and turned around in the bed groaning into her pillow.

"Why can't we spend time together here? Why do we have to go shopping?" Hermione cried looking pleadingly at her mother.

"Because we haven't shopped together for more than a year and you're leaving for the Weasley's next week."

Hermione knew her only spending a couple of weeks at home during the summer was a sore spot for her parents (specially her mother) but she still couldn't wrap her head around shopping no matter how little time she had to spend with her parents.

"Why can't we go to the park, or the zoo, or anywhere else, really?" Hermione was now sitting on the bed, making puppy dog eyes at her mother, who couldn't be ignoring them more, having laid the clothes in the end off the bed and going around the room fetching worn clothes to put in the washing machine.

"Because this annoying fog would ruin any kind of trip," seeing Hermione's movement to speak Jane continued on faster "except a shopping trip where we are inside the mall!"

Without really knowing how it had happened Hermione found herself inside the mall in London being dragged along with her (also annoyed) father from shop to shop carrying her mother's bags, both attempting to put a stop on what felt like a never ending shopping trip.

"Dear, we have enough clothes to last for another two or three years – Jane scuffed at her husband's words but said nothing deciding to ignore them and continue walking – I heard about this market place, near here selling antiques. It will only last this weekend and even though the weather isn't exactly the best we could still go." John could see his wife wavering on her decision of keeping on shopping in the mall and nudged Hermione for help.

"Yes! It will be fun. Please mother…" Hermione said hoping for a way out.

"Oh, fine. Let us have lunch here and then we will go." Jane said smiling softly. She had known from the beginning she wouldn't have been able to keep her two family members inside the mall for long, but she couldn't be happier with their second destination. She too, along with her daughter and husband was a fan of antiques.

After lunch (a well deserved double cheese and bacon pizza) the three of them were in the car heading for said market place. John was grinning from ear to ear, feeling proud at having dissuaded his wife from her shopping trip, Jane was looking at the map and speed talking (much like her daughter did when she was excited about something) about a forest surrounding the fair and Hermione was holding her camera, taking random pictures at her parents and the scenery outside the window. She had taken a liking to wizard cameras and after having bought her own and very rarely passed one opportunity to take it out of her bag. Of course the crescent green scenery was a good picture motive.

"Ah, we're here," Hermione's father said turning the engine of the car off. The fog hadn't lifted but no matter the strange weather they could still see countless people getting in and out of the cars, happy with their purchases. Not one seemed to care about the strange weather and somehow that made it easier to walk around as if it were nothing.

"There sure are a lot of people here," Jane commented looking at the masses of people moving up and down the street. Small children ran around looking at the toys tents of the gypsies, while the parents tried to dissuade them from buying the toys they offered (many of them, Hermione noticed with a scoff, failing).

The happy voices of the people could be heard left and right, mixing into what (in the distance) sounded like running water, the laughter of children chirping like happy little birds in the early morning spring.

"Oh, look Hermione." Jane had stopped in front of a small tent full of handbags (which in Hermione´s opinion were way to bright and colorful, hurting her eyes if she looked at them during too much time. However, Jane was pointing at a small beaded handbag that wasn't too bright nor to colorful. Actually, Hermione thought it was a really beautiful handbag. Not five minutes later she was the proud owner of it.

It was while Hermione was enjoying a strawberry ice-cream that her day got definitely worse. Her father was laughing at her mother who was making strange faces at the feeling of the cold ice cream she had bitten inside her mouth while Hermione was taking pictures of both of them when screams erupted in the far side of the street. The trio immediately stopped their laughter, getting up from the park benches where they had been seated to look better at the cause of disrupt.

Almost immediately Hermione recognized the flashes being sent from one side to the other hitting random people who could do nothing better but to run away from them not really knowing what was happening. Hermione took her wand out of her pocket almost immediately running in the opposite direction of the spells which were getting closer to them, as were the deatheaters producing them.

"Hermione, w-what´s going on?" Jane asked her daughter panic seeping into her voice which wavered due to the running her daughter was forcing her make. Her father didn't speak seeming to realize that the most important thing in the moment wasn´t asking questions but to escape from the wizards. Run first, questions later seemed to be his motto. A correct one at that.

Suddenly a chilling voice reached Hermione's ears making her stop abruptly. John and Jane stopped almost immediately looking at the black haired woman in front of them.

"Oh look! A mudblood! Potter's mudblood!" Hermione felt her blood run cold and instinctively put her parents behind her trying to shield them from harm´s way. Bellatrix, who was looking at the trio with renewed interest, pointed her wand at them, Hermione immediately pointed hers in return.

"Uuuh…. I'm so scared!" Bellatrix mocked looking at Hermione's fighting stance with amused eyes (well, as amused as her two scary black eyes could look).

Hermione felt her fingers closing further around her wand, making her knuckles turn white. Only Bellatrix and the anonymous deatheater remained focused on her, all the other focusing instead on the muggles around instead. The number of green flashes grew alarmingly fast around them and, unconsciously Hermione tried to step closer to her parents, putting herself in position if she had the need to defend them.

"Sectumsempra!" Bellatrix shouted without warning, making Hermione duck and knock her parents to the ground in efforts of keeping them unharmed. "Reducto! Incendio!" Bellatrix continued shouting not sparing a single second to breath, making Hermione dance around the spells, trying to avoid them with all her strength.

"Protego! Tarantallegra! Expelliarmus!" Hermione countered the moment she saw a opening on Bellatrix frenzy attack, ducking and aiming being Hermione's only thoughts. So entangled she was in the fight everything else slipped from her mind: her parents, thoughts of how she would be standing her own ground if she hadn't had DA in her fifth year, all the other deatheaters that hadn't stopped attacking the muggles like they were nothing more than a bid group of deer they could hunt. All Hermione saw was Bellatrix, her crazy eyes and black curly hair, but above all that, her wand, which kept firing curses nonstop. Never before had Hermione fought so hard (except maybe in the department of mysteries, once again all the way back in the end of her fifth year) and she could feel her dress start clinging to her back from all the sweat.

"Imperio! Crucio!" Bellatrix shouted harder, her voice gaining an angrier tone that matched the spells she was casting. Felling the fight getting dirtier than before (as she knew it was bond to become since it wasn't exactly a duel supervised be professors inside of Hogwards) Hermione started retaliating, silently praying the aurors wouldn't take much longer to come, knowing she wouldn't be able to hang on much longer. How she wished she had a way to contact the order! Already she could feel her arms and legs trembling with the effort of keeping up the speed.

What worried her was that Bellatrix didn't seem the least bit tired.

"Reducto! Immobullus! Incarcerous! Sectumsempra!" The last spell hit its intend target and Hermione stood still, looking at the irate eyes of Bellatrix Lestrage, who too had stopped lifting a hand to her cheek so she could feel the deep gash that had formed there, all with several others in her left arm. Hermione could't begin to guess how the woman was still standing as she looked like all the blood she had in her body was flowing out. A rogue spell hit a death eater that had been just about to attack Hermione, making both her and Bellatrix step out of whatever trance they had both been on.

"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix screeched making Hermione duck immediately. Horror hit her like a ton of rocks when she realized the spells wasn't aimed in her direction but her father's that had, without Hermione realizing stood up from his lying position. Still midjump she tried to cast something that sent her father out of the way but the second was gone before she could even so much as lift her wand, falling square on her back. Bellatrix's murderous laugh sounded trough all the frenzy around them. Hermione could only stare at her father's body, still like a plant, her mother's beside him looking every bit dead as her father was even tough she hadn't seen her being hit with the horrible green light. Two seconds had passed. Bellatrix was still laughing above all the noise. Hermione stood aiming at her father murderer who seemed to realize Hermione's intentions taking a fighting stance. Both witches had their spells in the tip of their tongue, neither being particularly nice. However before any of them could begin to utter more than the fist letters, Hermione was hit with a funny colored spell she couldn't recognize, her entire body exploding in pain. Blackness greeted her.

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><p>When she woke up she didn't know whether to feel glad she was alive or confused as to why (or how) she was alive. She could remember fighting with Bellatrix could remember her parent's dead bodies and could remember being hit with that painful spell (from which she could still feel traces of pain on her arms and legs).<p>

Blinking the tears away for she refused to be weak, she looked around taking in her surroundings for the first time. Of course staring into trees no matter the direction she looked hadn't been what she had thought she would find, and she couldn't help but wonder how she had gotten where she was. Had it been the caster of the spell that hit her intention to send her to a forest or had it been an accident? And what spell had she been hit with? Hermione did not recognize the light it had emitted, and the only thing she knew was that the spell had come from her right, just like the rogue one that had hit the deatheater besides Bellatrix.

Getting up from the ground Hermione started walking around, looking for a way out of the forest (maybe she could find a road, or even a old hikers trail) still thinking about the situation she was in. What had been in Hermione's right? She felt frustrated that she couldn't remember such a simple fact, but she knew it was due to having been so focused on her fight. Hell she hadn't even seen her mother be hit with the killing curse! She could however remember (from when she had seated with her parents on the bench eating ice-cream) that there had been a park near – but now that she thought about it, it could very well be the forest she was in (the one her mother had been talking about in the car too). So, Hermione concluded that was where she had been brought to. But what had been the purpose? That little question she still defeated her as she had absolutely no clue to what the answer was, and that was a feeling she did not like.

It was when she began to wonder if she should have stayed put and wait for help or keep wandering around and hope to find something that would help her that she felt like hitting herself repeatedly. She could already imagine Ron:

"Are you a witch or not!" she imagined he would say while looking at her with his mocking eyes and typical Ron expression. Getting her wand out of the beaded bag (and wondering how, along with the camera, it had managed not to fall during her fight) Hermione cast two patronuses, to Harry and Ron, asking for help. She would have asked someone in the order but with the attack she guessed they would be a little too busy and it didn't sit well with her bothering them just to go fetch her because she had gotten lost. Of course, before casting the patronuses she had contemplated apparating but she didn't know the nature of the spell she had been hit with and didn't feel confident enough to apparate without being one hundred percent sure there would be no side effects – she didn't want to leave a leg or anything behind, even if her own diagnosis spells didn't alert to anything wrong in her body. One never knew what dark magic had in its sleeves, she mused sitting in a moss covered stone waiting for a patronus to answer her own, indicating that help was in the way.

The sun was now in the middle of the sky. Hermione knew it had been hours not only because the sun had just barely risen when she had woken up, but also because her stomach was grumbling with hunger (thank Merlin she was a witch and didn't have to worry about lack of water). Feeling both worried because something had to have happened for her two best friends not to answer her messages, and angry with herself for having wasted a whole morning sitting on a damn rock waiting to be rescued like a damsel in distress when she could have just kept walking – the patronuses would have found her wherever she was – and maybe if she had done that she would have already found a way out of the forest! However, when light began to get dimmer she knew it wouldn't have mattered if she had walked or not for she had walked the whole afternoon only to end up in the clearing she had began her walk, staring at the moss covered rock which seemed to be mocking her.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione screamed halting her steps immediately. Felling her head getting lighter she silently cursed herself for her stupidity: not only was she dead on her feet after having walked the whole afternoon but also she had not been clever enough to mark her way so that she wouldn't end up in the same place has what had happened. To make matters worse, Hermione was thinking as she, once again, sat in the rock, she hadn't received any kind of answer to her patronus, which meant either something had happened to Harry and Ron, or they were somewhere with the fidelus charm. Hermione hoped it was the second option and repeatedly told herself that it was indeed. After all, if something had happened to Harry she reassured herself that she would have heard of it – being or not being lost.

Hermione briefly considered trying once again to find a way out, maybe with the help of a point me spell, which she had earlier decided against because she didn't know where she wanted to be pointed to, however she quickly decided against it while looking at the sun, getting lower with each passing minute, signaling the end of the day. Hermione didn't need anyone to tell her that walking around in a forest during the night was a very stupid and imprudent thing to do.

Sighing she looked around the clearing trying to find a good area to spend the night in, and started to transfigure tree branches and leaves into a shelter big enough for her to sleep inside. Already inside it, the beaded bag was transfigured into a sleeping bag where she settled for the night. She only woke up when the sun decided to greet her with its early morning soft rays once again.

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><p><strong>So that's the first chapter, please read and Review!<strong>

Lady Featherweight


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! I wasn't planning on updating so soon but I guess I couldn't resist (this won't always happen!), but the next chapter is going to take maybe a week to post (not because it's not written because it is, just because I want to write - the first draft is always handwritten - and type a couple more before updating).

I also want to thank those who reviewed, favorited and subscribed. I took into account the advice that was given while revising this chapter, but i still have to discover how to edit a posted chapter. Do we have to replace it? (Don't sue me because i sound dumb, i'm just new at this XD)

So anyway, i think I have talked too much already so enjoy!

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

The birds chirped happily, singing their way from one tree to another, sending their good morning whishes to each other and every other living animal around them. Slowly, so as not to hurt her aching back, Hermione sat up, her head not hitting the top of her makeshift shelter for few inches. She couldn't remember ever being as hungry as she was in that moment – which was to be expected seeing as she had never went so long without eating, after all the last thing she had eaten had been a ice-cream the two days before. A quick aguamenti charm however did the job in quenching her thirst and getting her stomach full – even if was only water.

"Point me," Hermione whispered once she had unset the small camp she had built the night before. On her head there was nothing but the wish to find a way out of the forest.

She was surprised when the wand settled pointing her in a direction, which she hadn't thought would happen because she didn't have a fix destination in mind (she only wanted to leave the forest). And so she started walking, ignoring the way her back ached with every step, the way her ballet flats did almost nothing in protecting her feet from the harsh ground (even after she had spelled them to become thicker).

She walked, and walked, and walked. Hermione couldn't believe the forest was that big by the time the sun hit its peak signaling midday and she still didn't see any sign that she was nearing the forest edge. She felt ready to collapse, both physically and emotionally. With nothing to occupy her mind, she hadn't been able to avoid thinking about her parents murder, grieving their deaths, hating the way their lives had been taken away from them. Only if she had been stronger, maybe she would have been able to protect them and wouldn't need to be grieving in that moment. Not that she truly grieved. She had become strangely detached from her body regarding her parents' deaths not producing one single tear except for the ones she had cried in front of their murderer, choosing instead to grieve silently. She felt that if she truly cried their deaths would become even more real, as if her crying was the final decision on their deaths. She felt that if she cried then they would be lost forever. Not that not crying made her feel any less guilty, because no matter how she looked at the events her conclusion was always that of her guiltiness, after all she was a witch and they were not. She should have protected them better.

_I will get stronger_, she thought with a new resolution getting up from the fallen tree trunk she had sat on to rest and drink some water, _I will get stronger and I will fight them all._ She knew the order would help her with her new resolve (even if they hadn't answered the new patronuses she had sent to Remus and Mr. Weasley that morning, which made her once again conclude that they were in a protect house were her patronus couldn't get into. It was too illogical to think that something had happened to four order members) and so she started walking once again, following the way her wand pointed her to more eagerly.

The sound of movement around her however brought her out of the task, making her immediately hold her wand so she could defend herself. Was there a deatheater on her trail? Had she been sent to the forest as some sort of sick twisted game to the deatheaters, so that they could "play with their food"? How could she have been so stupid as to think that the curse hadn't been an accident and she had been transported to the forest by a mistake? How stupid-

And then couple of squirrels jumped out from behind some bushes, making their way hurriedly to another hideout.

_Seriously?_ She thought feeling exasperated at the conclusion that she had been scared by squirrels. Not willing to believe her own stupidity she whispered "Homenum revelio!". No results.

Blaming it on exhaustion and starvation Hermione decided to find a nice looking clearing and call it a night. Never once did she realize she was just a few feet away from a nice little trail that would certainly lead her out of the hell hole she had gotten herself into. All she knew was that, as she watched the light get dimmer and dimmer she could feel herself become just a little bit too warm and her stomach rumbling in protest.

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><p>That particular morning was a little colder than what was to be expected seeing as it was the middle of the summer, so Tom found himself wearing his coat to go on his usual morning walk. Only barely did he escape Mrs. Cole and her unbearable attitude regarding him , so the moment he closed the door behind him, felling the morning air hit his cheeks, he felt his shoulders relax and started walking in no particular direction, like he did every morning. Mrs. Cole hated not knowing where Tom went every morning before breakfast and had, for some time attempted to keep him from leaving. When she realized she didn't have enough power over the boy to do so she started setting the neighbors in watch, keeping one eye open for anything he did. So Tom's objective had been, since then, avoiding his spies, not that he did anything they couldn't see. Oh no, he wouldn't dare do anything during summer that could prejudice him, but he liked seeing the matron squirming when all she received from her spies was a simple "I didn't see the boy this morning" or "he just walked by me, but then disappeared". For that reason he never walked the same way two days in a row and tried to be as unpredictable as he could and what better way to do that than walking randomly? If he didn't know his own destination how could anybody else guess it?<p>

Tom, naturally, knew that the reason he was the only one with people watching his every movement, was Mrs. Cole's suspicions regarding some events which had happened back when he had yet to hear even a whisper about Hogwards. Of course nothing of sort happened from the moment Dumbledore had visited him, but that hadn't lessened the woman's fears, even if she couldn't directly blame for something she had no evidence of. It didn't concern Tom that he couldn't do anything about it. Sure he didn't like being an entire summer away from magic but he was already going to his fourth year, and in barely more than two years time he would be considered an adult in the magical world and then he could do magic whenever he wanted. The filthy muggles wouldn't have any kind of power over him, they wouldn't spy on him, they wouldn't even be around him. He did not plan on coming back to the orphanage the summer after his sixth year, when he would already be of age. It didn't matter where he went that summer, one thing he knew for sure, he wouldn't be coming back to the damned orphanage. The particular summer he was going through however he was still confined to it. And what a strange summer day that day was. Not that he minded, since he preferred the cold better than the heat, for the simple reason that when he was cold he only had to dress more cloths, on opposite that when he was too warm no matter how little cloths you had on, the heat could still be unbearable.

Looking ahead Tom saw a woman with three children give him a "not so nice" stare and knew immediately she was one of the people Mrs. Cole had confided in. Keeping a natural pace and neutral expression Tom naturally turned to his left, as if doing so had always been his intention. A few feet after having turned left he started walking in the direction of a trail he used to walk on when he strolled around the woods. After entering just a little bit in the forest he could notice the difference in the surroundings. The sun, which wasn't exactly strong that day, for it was being filtered through the ominous grey clouds that had made themselves present, was even more filtered through the treetops giving the green forest a dark looking appearance almost like the forbidden forest. Even the air looked different, but that particular difference he was accustomed to, for the air itself looked greener as if someone had decided to paint it just barely enough to be noticed. Not only did it look greener but it felt healthier, much lighter than the air back in the city, infected with fumes from the fabrics and cars.

Walking the trail was almost as easy as breathing: he didn't have to remember his feet to go a certain way, for they knew by themselves were to go even if he did not wander around the forest on a daily basis. Nothing ever seemed to change, and if it wasn't for the fact that the sun rose and set everyday he would say that the forest was immune to time, letting it pass by harmlessly without being touched by it. The same branches, rocks and leaves stood exactly where tom had last seen them.

"What the-" He whispered to himself, looking at a strange heap of leaves and tree branches. As quietly as he could – and without really knowing why exactly he was trying to be quiet – he approached the odd structure and was most surprised at what he found. Under the odd shaped mount – a makeshift shelter, he realized – was a strange looking girl, wearing in a dark green dress, with bushy light brown hair, and a beaded bag in her foot (as if it were a shoe). She was sleeping peacefully and Tom wondered how the muggle (a voice in the back of his calling her _filthy muggle)_ had ended up sleeping in the forest dressed so little for its weather. He was about to continue walking (after all he saw no need in helping a muggle that would just send him to a bonfire if given the choice) when he saw the last detail he had missed in the girl. Under her head was a wand, hidden in all the bushiness that was hair. Once again being as quiet as he could manage he crouched beside her and carefully took it from under her head to look at it better. The girl only stirred a bit groaning softly before settling back down. Releasing a breath he didn't know he had been holding he looked at the wand in his hands, noting how polished and well cared for it was. There was almost no doubt in his head now that the girl was a witch, fact that only amounted for more unanswered questions. How had a witch ended up sleeping on the forest in the conditions she was in.

He shook the witches arm to wake her up (what better way to know all he wanted to know than to ask her himself?) but the girl only groaned louder, refusing to wake up. It was then that he felt her slight shivers under his hand. Looking more carefully at the girl he noticed her slightly blue lips, the way her air stood so still he could mistake it for frozen and her sickly pale skin.

She's ill, he thought affronted at the thought that a witch could catch a cold. There were many ways for wizards and witches to avoid such a muggle like illnesses, and the fact that the witch in front of them looked to be having a bad one he immediately thought she wasn't a very powerful witch. But the wand in his hand, the power he felt from it, did not confirm his thoughts. No weak witch could handle the power he felt emanating from the wand (second only to his own from what he had felt from the ones he had held).

That certainly puts things in a different light doesn't it? He thought unconsciously letting his eyes roam the forest around. Deciding he had nothing better to do he put the wand in her purse (where a camera was making him wish he could see the photos that were yet to be revealed), and grabbed her in his arms standing up, groaning at how heavy such a tiny girl could be when unconscious (if he were older and could use magic it would have been so much easier!).

"Mrs. Cole! I need help!" he shouted the moment the orphanage's door closed behind him with a tremendous bang due to his hard kick. The walk from the forest to the orphanage had seemed extremely long and he had even entrained the idea of just dumping the girl on the side of the street for anyone who cared, but the thought of leaving a puzzle unsolved behind had warranted such thing didn't happen. Now that he already was in the orphanage and the girl in his arms seemed to weight a ton because he felt so tired he only wanted to get her out of his sight as quickly as possible. He felt that the pain he was feeling in all his body wasn't worth the witch that had, in her unconsciousness drooled all over his coat. It didn't help that he knew that the matron would imagine ostentatious ideas the moment she saw the girl in his arms, all of them having him as the main guilty party. She would stop them when she realized he couldn't possibly be guilty of the witch's sickness, but he would have to deal with her before she realized that.

"Oh my goodness! What happened?" she asked the moment she entered the hall and saw the unconscious girl in Tom's arms, immediately indicating tom to bring her to a room. Tom did not miss the fact that her tone implied that he was somehow guilty of the state of the girl, who had already been laid in one of the empty beds.

"I don't know. I found her like this in the woods. She's sick," Tom justified.

"What were you doing alone in the woods?" she asked her tone clipped and suspicious even though she was taking care of the girl in front of her at the same time.

"Walking," Tom said pacifically, not seeming to have a care in the world " like I do every morning." he finished, walking out the door before Miss Cole could say another word in his direction. The matron's mind didn't dwell much on that fact, concentrating instead on her new charge.

Tom opened the door to the room that had been his ever since he had been born into the orphanage. There were few things in it besides the bed and wardrobe, which he opened pulling his Hogwards trunk out. Inside he put the girl's purse, where her wand and camera were stored.

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><p>So that's it! It's a bit shorter than the first one but I had to cut it here for coherency. Hope you guys liked it, and if you did please review and leave your opinion!<p>

Lady Featherweight


	3. Chapter 3

Hello!

First of all I want to thank all those who reviewed, favorited and alerted, you're great!

Second: I honestly wasn't planning on updating today (I was thinking of updating Sunday) but next Monday I will have a very important exam and I really need to study hard all weekend long (i'm supposed to be studying right now :P). Not only will I have that said exam, but a lot of work from other subjects so I won't be able to update the next chapter any earlier than Friday (don't worry though because I have a good part of the story written and some chapters are already typed! I need to correct them and read them - again! - before publishing them. No one likes to see grammar and spelling mistakes in the story, it's just not nice).

I'm not going to fill you're time any longer, please enjoy :D

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Hermione didn't know that it was possible to have a headache as big as she was having. Groaning she moved her sore limbs feeling the cotton sheets around her body. Immediately she stilled her movements. She wasn't supposed to be felling cotton sheets, for she was one hundred percent sure she had last fallen asleep in the forest, and there were no cotton sheets in a forest to greet her in the morning. Sensing someone else with her in whatever room she was (she could only be in a room seeing as she was positive she was lying in a bed) she listened carefully, hearing light breathing and the occasional sound of something that was immensely similar to the turning of a page, a sound she was oh so familiar with.

Blinking her eyes open as slowly as she could because the sunlight in the room was very bright she took in the details of the room. It had a small square shape, with to beds (one of them being the one she was lying on), one small wardrobe, a window and a shelf full small little trinkets and a few books, which she assumed belonged to the girl sitting on the bed beside's hers, reading. She had yet to notice Hermione was awake, and continued reading intently.

"Oh!" the girl said turning her brown eyes to Hermione. Her hair was very dark and she had freckles across her cheeks making her strangely doll like. Hermione concluded she couldn't be older than twelve.

"You're awake" Mrs. Cole said that you should wake up soon, but you've been sleeping for so long that I didn't really believe her." The girl said quickly unaware that Hermione had registered nothing beside's the fact that she had apparently been asleep for some time, asking the girl exactly how long she had been asleep instead of the more logical question she had thought of first "where am I?"

"Mrs. - Cole had you moved to this room two days ago, but she said you had already slept through all of that day, so guess you've been here for a little over three days. When Tom brought you, you were already unconscious so we don't know exactly how long you have been 'out of it'" the girl said making quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked feeling her voice still weak for not having spoken for a long time.

"Wool's Orphanage" the girl said, now kneeling beside Hermione's bed who still didn't feel strong enough to get up. The name of the orphanage rang a bell somewhere in the dark corners of her mind, but Hermione pushed the feeling away assuming she had heard of it before somewhere unimportant.

"Never heard of it" she responded slightly untruthful seeing as she had a feeling she had but didn't remember. Hermione smiled weakly. Indeed, she now belonged in a orphanage.

They exchanged a few more words before the girl (who she now knew was called Sophia and was indeed twelve years old – "twelve years and seven months" she had said) went out of the room to warn the matron - Mrs. Cole Hermione Recalled – that Hermione had woken up. Both Returned, holding a small tray of food and helped Hermione sit and eat.

"I can't remember" said Hermione when Mrs. Cole asked her what had happened to her.

"Then what about your parents?"

"I don't know" She lied again, feeling a sharp pain in her gut the moment the matron mentioned them. The longer she denied herself the truth the later she would need to face it.

"Then what do you remember?" the woman asked looking at Hermione with kind pitying eyes. Hermione swallowed the piece of bread she had been chewing before answering.

"My name. Hermione. My name's Hermione."

HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom

Only later did Hermione Realize that she didn't have her purse with her, and along with her purse her wand and camera too were missing. Hermione felt more than ready to panic.

"Are you sure I didn't have a purse with me Sophia?" She asked the girl with a crazed expression in her face. Hermione was standing and looking in every possible corner of the small room even though her legs felt like jell-o.

"Yes, I'm sure. I thought you didn't remember anything…" Sophia said with a strange glint in her eyes, looking extremely Slytherin like. Hermione was so scared she hadn't noticed her mistake.

"And I don't! But I do remember a beaded purse, and I fell- no I know! It's extremely important that I don't lose it."

"Okay, but no matter what, I haven't seen it. Maybe you should ask Tom in the morning, but now you should just sleep. Its past curfew already and I don't believe you would like it if Mrs. Cole barged in here to tell us to go to bed. She has quite the temper."

Felling defeated Hermione sat back on the bed facing her roommate who had mumbled a goodnight and closed her eyes looking to be profoundly asleep just a few minutes after. Hermione didn't sleep that night, feeling incredibly anxious to question said Tom, who might know where her bag was.

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><p>The orphanage was very dark and gloomy. Hermione couldn't help but wonder how children were supposed to grow up happy and healthy in such a degraded house. The Younger ones wore grey smocks and were the first served during breakfast, followed of course by their older housemates. The dining hall was small housing just two round tables surrounded by chairs all in different shape, color and size. Hermione counted eighteen chairs and after everyone was seated she noticed that only two were remained empty. After asking Sophia (who was seated next to her) she learned that the fifteen others in the room were the only habitants of the house.<p>

Mrs. Cole and another young woman were seated beside each other feeding two toddlers besides them. Those two were the only babies, followed by three children that didn't look any older that five. On her table – which was bigger than the other one – there were five children all around Sophia's age and three teenagers that looked Hermione's age (or just slightly younger).

One boy and the girl were speaking quietly to each other, completely excluding the other one. Hermione than realized they weren't the only one's ignoring the black haired boy. There was a larger space on each side of his chair than normal and not one person so much as looked in his direction. He however did not seem to notice (or care), eating the hard bread they had been served along with cold milk (giving Hermione the idea that food wasn't exactly abundant) like there was nothing wrong. Hermione wondered why he was an outcast. Generally people gravitated towards people who had good looks and the boy, with is perfectly combed hair and angular face was most certainly handsome.

"What are you looking at? A cold voice asked, making Hermione freeze. She wasn't the only one, for everyone on the table had stopped pretending the boy wasn't there to stare at him like they would stare at an animal in the zoo.

"N-nothing" Hermione stuttered looking away from him and staring at the bitten bread in her hands. Hermione felt angry with herself for making such a weak impression and looking like a lonely lost five year old little girl.

"Tom, did Hermione have a purse with her when you found her?" Sophia asked the boy with a confident look in her eyes, clearly trying to win the boy's attention. The girl's crush was immensely obvious.

Hermione looked at the boy – tom – in time to see a flicker of recognition pass through his eyes. Immediately she felt relieved.

"Oh thank Merlin!" she said holding her hand to her heart, as if recovering from running as quick as she could for half an hour.

"What makes you think I did?" he asked, his smooth voice flowing in Hermione's direction. He seemed to have completely forgotten it had been Sophia who asked the question in the first place only having looked at the girl for a second.

"Your expression. When she mentioned the bag you looked like you knew what she was talking about."

"So you read people's faces?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion and disbelief.

"No." She answered "I'm just observant."

"You're right" he admitted "I do have your purse." His manners were impeccable, not betraying how angry he felt about having lost the only leverage he had. "I'll give it back to you after breakfast."

"Thank you. It's very important to me".

Not knowing what else to say she continued eating ignoring the strange felling that had settled in the air. Soon those who had finished eating started getting up from the table, leaving to do whatever they did during the day. Tom, Hermione noticed, ate extremely slowly, as if he had nothing better to do than taste the hideous bread that their breakfast consisted on.

Finally getting up from the table Tom went out of the room without saying a word, Hermione following silently behind, wondering with each step she took, what in the name of Merlin was wrong with the boy.

Tom entered a small room, much like the one Hermione was sharing with Sophia. Not wanting to be rude she waited outside and seeing as Tom had closed the door she had no idea of what Tom was doing inside (but whatever it was he sure was taking his sweet time doing it).

After what felt like and eternity – but was really only five minutes, which was still a very long time if the only thing on had to do was retrieve a purse – the door opened revealing Tom with Hermione's bag in his hands.

"Thanks" she managed to say before he closed the door in her face, the message clear: stay out. Hermione absent mindedly thought that h was a very rude boy, her immediate thoughts being an uncoordinated bottle of joy for finally be holding her wand again.

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><p>All Tom could do was curse his bad luck. Sure he could not have giver her he purse but then he would have risked getting in the witch's bad side, something that wouldn't help him in anything if he wanted to find out more about the girl.<p>

Sitting in bed Tom stared at the bare wall in front of him. In the time he had had the girl's bag in his possession he hadn't been able to discover a thing about the owner. The wand was nothing more than a regular wand (even if he felt it felt almost as good as his own in his hand), the camera was also a normal magical camera which meant that he couldn't reveal the photos without using magic. His restriction in practicing magic had of course limited him, but he doubted he would have managed any useful information even if he had been able to use his own wand.

Sighing he laid down staring at the ceiling. If he were to be honest with himself he had been sorely disappointed upon meting the girl. She had acted extremely normal, not giving him one clue about her, except her obvious knowledge of the muggle world – not once had he seen her looking fascinated at any object like many wizards and witches did. That and her dress (most obviously a muggle one) were proof enough that either she was a muggleborn or had at least grown up aware of the muggle world.

The only thing unusual about her was her name – Hermione. And Hermione was a puzzle he intended to solve before school started.

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><p>Once again, i'm sorry it's so short (next one is bigger don't worry!) but i needed to cut the story here so that the chapters flow in a more natural way.<p>

Please review! I really want to know your opinions about the story and I really appreciate constructive criticism.

Thank you for reading.

Lady Featherweight


	4. Chapter 4

Like promised here is the fourth chapter :D

This week was absolutely chaotic for me and the next two will be even more so. I'll try update fifth chapter as soon as I can but don't expect it to be updated any earlier than a week since there is the probability that I might not have time to sit down in front of the computer and type it (I write in my notebook which I carry around everywhere - very good for when inspiration strikes and i'm not home :D).

Anyway now that that is out of the way, I want to say THANK YOU to all those who reviewed, subscribed and added this story to you favorites.

Enjoy!

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

"Hermione," a girl's voice called from the stairs and Hermione turned her eyes away from the door she had been staring at since Tom shut it in her face (her wand was already safely inside the bag around her shoulders).

Sophia was standing in one of the steps looking at Hermione like she had suddenly grown another head "Tom is very strange you know." Again that adoring tone Sophia always had when she talked about the boy. Now that Hermione had noticed it she couldn't imagine how she had missed the first few times she talked about him. "It isn't a good idea to try and get to know him".

"Why do you say that?" asked Hermione barely thinking twice about the warning she had just been given. She couldn't understand how the twelve year old had a crush on Tom seeing as he nothing but unwelcoming (at least he had been during breakfast and she had no reason to believe he behaved differently on other days). No one seemed to want to befriend him, yet Sophia crushed on him like he was the best person to walk the earth.

"He's strange. There are rumors something happened to two kids who used to live here when the three of them were alone, but Mrs. Cole couldn't prove anything. It's just stories I heard of course. I haven't been here that long and the two kids left before I came here."

"So those are just stories you were told by a couple of kids who know as much as you do?" Sophia looked mad at having been called a kid.

"No. When I got here Mrs. Cole told me myself."

"Why would she tell you that?" Hermione really couldn't understand why the owner of the orphanage seemed to be turning the kids against one another.

Sophia looked down, seeming to have gone from angry to embarrassed in a flat second.

"Mrs. Cole found me crying because Tom was refusing to be my friend a few days after I got here.

"Oh really?" Hermione still wasn't sure of the veracity of the girl's tale but decided to let it go. Tom's refusal to befriend the twelve year old in front of her wasn't exactly the subject she was most interest in.

"Yes. Anyway this is not what I came to talk to you about. Mrs. Cole said you have to lie down and rest. She says you still need to recover from your cold.

True enough Hermione had been felling her body protesting for a few minutes now, but she had no desire to spend the rest of her day in bed.

"I don't feel tired-"she started only to be interrupted by a strict sounding voice which got increasingly nearer. Mrs. Cole was going up the stairs.

"Orders are orders young lady. While under my custody you do as I tell you, unless you don't want to have lunch, seeing as you will need to rest now if you want me to allow you to come dawn to have meals. We have no such thing as room service here."

Hermione's stomach rumbled at the thought of missing a meal with such a poor breakfast on her system. Sighting Hermione nodded and replying affirmatively to the matron started descending the stairs in what she thought to be the direction of the small room she had been given.

Sophia had already went out some door when Mrs. Cole talked in Hermione's direction keeping her tone low so only Hermione (who had only gone down a couple of steps) would hear.

"I heard what Sophia told you. She's saying the truth you know. Tom isn't exactly the best company to have in here."

Hermione looked at Mrs. Cole as she went up the stairs carrying a basket full of clothes. She was petrified in her place (not in the real meaning of the word of course, seeing as there was no basilisk around) hearing the woman's footsteps get lighter and lighter. When she could no longer hear them Hermione fixed her gaze in Tom's door (which she could only see partially).

Sophia and Mrs. Cole had been so set in trying to keep her away from Tom that they had successfully managed in making Hermione curious about the ill mannered boy.

* * *

><p>The next two days were, in Hermione's opinion, pure torture. Mrs. Cole had kept her bed ridden most of the time, only allowing her to stretch her legs during meals as she had promised (going to the bathroom was the only other way she could leave the bed).<p>

In the beginning she felt like she had truly needed the rest but now she felt that she was only wasting time. With nothing to do, she usually found herself immersed in unpleasant memories, most of which from the attack that had caused her parents deaths and her being put in an orphanage. That resulted in her crying her eyes out (something she had refused to do until then) whenever she was alone in the room or before going to sleep.

"Why are you crying?" Sophia had asked after getting in the room one afternoon and see Hermione clean her eyes rather clumsily. Hermione was desperately trying to look as if she hadn't been crying. "Is it because you don't remember anything?" the small girl continued sitting in the end of Hermione's bed and staring at her with her big brown curious eyes.

"Yes…" Hermione had answered poorly embracing the excuse she had been given. Somehow she found herself wishing her lie wasn't a lie. Then she wouldn't remember seeing the light leave her father's eyes, and her mother lying on the cold hard ground with an empty expression.

"You will remember, you'll see. Mrs. Cole says you only have partial amnesia because you remember a few things like your name and your bag, so it will be easier for you to remember the rest. Then when you do you can go back to your family."

"I don't have a family" Hermione answered before she could think about what she was saying.

"You don't know. You can't remember, but when you do maybe you discover not necessarily your parents but an uncle or aunt living somewhere."

The subject of conversation had been left at that and neither of the girls seemed particularly interest in talking about it again. Sophia was slightly jealous of Hermione who could still have family somewhere when she had none, and Hermione was grieving to much to want to hear the younger girl talk about possible family members she didn't want and knew for a fact they didn't exist. Her parents had been only children (very much like her) and her grandparents had died long before she had even been born.

Now after two days of unbroken rest, and feeling immensely well, Hermione smiled and wished good morning to everyone she crossed paths with on her way to breakfast. Unlucky for her, most orphan's moods seems to reflect the orphanage itself, and looked at her like she was crazy for looking so happy when she had nothing to be happy about.

The old-fashioned hallway was as broken and gloomy as Hermione had seen it the past two days, the rooms too remained equally damaged and grey, but suddenly there was a new shine to everything. Pretty yellow flowers a little girl had picked up from the backyard the day before stood proudly on a small white jar. The curtains on the main window in the stairs seemed to be greener than before, thanks to the bright sunlight that shone through them that particular morning.

"Good morning," Hermione whished once again, smiling at a small boy – who couldn't be older than five – looked at Hermione like she was a alien (just like all the others had looked at her). Nonetheless he smiled shyly just before he disappeared from her line of sight.

"You're going to freak everyone out," Sophia said looking at Hermione.

"What- why?" Hermione asked still smiling like a little boy who ate the last cookie in the jar.

"No one here is that cheery. You've got to lay low unless you want to stand out like a sore thumb. Before you know it you will be the weird girl nobody wants to befriend."

"I feel really happy today, so I'm not going to let you ruin my good mood," Hermione replied entering the dining room, not really surprised at the choice of breakfast: bread and milk seemed to be the only thing on the menu ever.

During the time Hermione had been bed ridden not one of the orphans had walked into her room (apart from Sophia of course, seeing as she was sharing the room with her) so looking at their faces only during meals she hadn't been able to memorize all of them. They were all so alike, wearing the dark colors of their uniform, untreated hair and somewhat sore expressions that only one or two managed to stand out a little bit. Those were the ones Hermione remembered the best. Of course it helped that she had managed to catch their names in between conversations so she had names to go with the faces. The two older (besides Tom whose face she had memorized from day one) much like Tom, kept to themselves, only talking in whispers to each other (at least during the meals which was the only time she ever saw them – much like all the others of course). The other face she remembered relatively well was the one of a girl that sometimes spoke with Sophia when they were on the table. Hermione had gathered that they spent almost all their time together whenever Sophia wasn't in their room.

Tom couldn't imagine why his puzzle, (as he had started naming Hermione in his thoughts) was so happy. From the moment she had entered the room she hadn't stopped smiling at the smallest things. If someone coughed she'd smile sweetly and ask if they were fine, her smile not wavering when she received blank stares or rude answers in response. If someone let his spoon fall she would catch it for them and return it with a big smile on her lips. Sophia, an annoying girl that had first stepped into the orphanage a couple years back, seemed to be the only one who was enjoying the girl's strange behavior, looking amused at her pears reactions to the girl's actions.

"You really are happy today," Sophie said when she realized Hermione hadn't freaked anyone out in a few minutes. Really, Tom Thought as he took a bite out of his piece of bread, all the brat wanted was entertainment.

"Really Sophia! You haven't stopped pestering me today. So what if I'm happy?" he heard Hermione answer.

"Nothing. I'm just not used to someone who is all smiles"

"I'm not all smile" she said back quite unconvincingly for even though Tom wasn't looking at her he could hear the smallest of smiles in her voice.

"Sure. Whatever you say." It seemed that the girl had given up from trying to arouse any kind of worthy entertainment from Hermione.

There was no more talk between the two of them during the entire duration of the meal and Tom could not help but be disappointed that he wouldn't be getting any kind of knowledge about her. To be truthful, with each passing day he couldn't help but think that the girl had nothing about her worth knowing. Probably being a witch was her biggest secret. Also another annoying thing about her was that he was positive she was older than him but sometimes still acted like a noisy girl who had nothing better to do all day apart from pretending the world was made of butterflies, fairies and unicorns.

* * *

><p>Noon had passed and Tom had finished his last piece of homework that morning (something he had been attempting to delay since the beginning of the holidays seeing as it was one of the only thing related to magic that he could do) he found himself with nothing better to do than grab his old notebook (one he had bought on his first trip to Diagon alley and where he wrote copies of all the essays he considered important, along with spells, potions or magic related knowledge he had found while reading in Hogwards library) and sit down under a old tree in the back of the orphanage reading his old notes, remembering and trying to commit to memory everything he had forgotten. He would never be able to read through all of his notes of four years in Hogwards – even though his calligraphy was small and neat (something he had learned from Mrs. Cole who disciplined the hand of all her orphans) by the end of his first year he had needed to magically add pages (after proper research on how to do so, of course. Now the small notebook had as many pages as he could write on, never getting larger or heavier).<p>

It was only natural when two hours later he was sound asleep, with the book on his lap, his head reclined against the tree trunk with his arms behind it, in a completely relaxed posture, the sun (which had come back full force after those few odd days it had been covered) occasionally passing through the branches and hitting his face softly.

It was in that position that one of the little boys of the orphanage found him, after his ball went in Tom's direction. Still young and innocent about the boy who everyone considered to be rude he started shaking Tom awake softly.

"Could you help me get my ball back?" the small boy asked once Tom opened his eyes scornfully to see the boy point at the ball nestled in the tree branches above his head.

"No." he said shortly before picking himself up from the ground annoyed, booth at the child who had had the nerve to wake him up – said child was now in the process of throwing small rocks at the ball with other boys, trying to get it to come down – and also annoyed at the fact that he had actually fallen asleep. He supposed it was the boredom of having nothing to do, but he still condoned his lack of care. He had been pretty defenseless back there, and he wasn't even the only wizard in the orphanage. Sure he didn't think Hermione would attack him for no reason at all, specially seeing as he was one hundred percent sure she thought he was a muggle. However it still had not been a very smart move on his part.

And from what he could see, he wasn't the only wizard who had been careless that afternoon, as Hermione herself sat alone in one of the steps to the orphanage. She was not asleep but she was pretty defenseless sitting with her face turned to the sun, her eyes closed, simply enjoying the warmth it gave her. She looked like peace embodied.

Conscious of the opportunity to observe the girls Tom started walking slower and opened his notebook at some random page, pretending to read, just in case the girls stepped out of her trance.

He saw Sophie approach and ask Hermione something he could not hear to which he saw her answer even though he still couldn't hear. With the little brat beside her she was smiling very openly but the moment Sophia went back inside and the door closed behind her, Hermione's smile disappeared quickly and she turned back around staring at a random place with a blank stare.

Obviously, the girl had more to her than met the eye, and Tom rejoiced in that fact as he sat beside her, content with the prospect of the new puzzle he had to solve.

If the only way he had to solve it was to play good cop then he was more than willing. It wasn't like he wasn't used to do it all the time in Hogwards.

"Hello" he said politely, his voice smooth as the finest silk, "How are you this evening?"

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><p>And this is it guys!<p>

Hope you liked it and let me know your opinion by reviewing! You just need to push the little button down there and write a few words :D

Thank you for reading!

Lady Featherweight


	5. Chapter 5

I'm going to be very short today, and I'm simply going to send a HUGE thanks to all those who have been supporting this story (either by reviewing, "favoriting" or subscribing). Thank you!

Here's the fit chapter (on time! :D) hope you like it!

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

Hermione couldn't believe the boy sitting beside her was the same boy everyone considered to be, in lack of better word, the freak of the orphanage. When he had approached her the day before, with a perfect smile and impeccable manners she had been slightly suspicious. No one's attitude changed like that, but shortly after he joined her, being the Gryffindor she was she confronted him about it, going straight to the point.

"I'm sorry for my misbehavior the past few days. I've been feeling a bit under the weather," he had said looking at the clear blue sky above them. He truly looked like the picture of honesty.

"Are you better now?"

"Much better, thank you."

Needless to say Hermione had still been suspicious, however soon enough Tom's carefree attitude became contagious and she too was reclining her head back so the sun could hit her face warming her already warm skin. They talked endlessly, not really speaking about anything in particular. He was a good company, carefree and with a contagious laugh, so naturally the day after their first afternoon together she smiled brightly when, once again he joined her, this time under a tree (the same one Tom had fallen asleep under the day before). Sitting side by side, both looking carefree and happy, without a worry in the world, while Tom explain Hermione how to make a wreath (something he had learned in his younger years at the orphanage) while Hermione was royally failing in the task, which made Tom laugh softly every time she groaned or sighed frustratingly. He would the undo what she had messed up and guide her step by step so that she wouldn't commit another mistake.

Much too soon they heard Mrs. Cole call everybody inside to have lunch. In the afternoon they lied under the tree staring at the birds above them, the flower crown (which had been quickly finished by Tom before lunch) resting in Hermione's bushy hair. Sometime in the afternoon they even fell asleep waking up to Mrs. Cole's voice calling them inside. Just like had happened during lunch, whenever they were around others Tom went back to his quiet self not directing a simply look in anyone's direction. Hermione was okay with it. It was like she was privy to something others weren't and it made her feel slightly special that Tom allowed himself to relax around her.

After dinner no one left the house as they always had to go to their rooms, and the day would end then for everyone in the orphanage for everyone apart from the matron and her helper who after laying down all the small children stayed up cleaning the whole house and preparing next day's meals (at least it was what Sophia had told her). All of them were then escorted upstairs, like a bunch of sheep being led by the pastor.

"Have a good night," Tom whispered when he passed by Hermione to go to his room. Both she and Sophia were getting inside their own room and both heard his whisper even if it was only meant to Hermione.

Hermione however never got to answer her newest friend for she was immediately pulled inside by her twelve-year-old roommate who looked positively murderous.

"What was that about?" the girl asked looking at Hermione like a mother would look at a son who had just messed up. Sophia even completed the angry mother look by putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot rhythmically on the floor.

Hermione was having none of it. She refused to have a twelve year old look at her like that, but after opening her mouth to speak she closed it again – in a very good impersonation of a gapping fish – and decided that fighting with Sophia was worth the trouble she would get. The kid was just sad her crush paid no attention to her.

She walked by the girl and sat on her bed, taking her shoes of slowly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked in the most normal voice she could manage.

"Why did Tom bid you goodnight?"

"I don't know. Because he was being nice?" Hermione answered, not being able to avoid the slight sarcastic tone in her voice. She was now changing her socks and putting on warmer ones to sleep. She had spent enough nights in the orphanage to realize that even during the summer, the nights in the orphanage could get quite cold in her side of the building because the afternoon sun hit the other side.

Sophia was still standing, hands on the hips, her foot tapping to a steady rhythm.

"Tom isn't nice to anybody. I tried to get him to be nice to me for a whole summer and I never accomplished that. It's just not who he is."

"Isn't Tom a bit too old for you?"

"NO! One day he is going to look at me and wonder why he never considered being my boyfriend before, you'll see. I'm the only one here good enough for him."

It was instantaneous. Sadness rushed trough Hermione, and she sat still on the bed, suddenly too tired to move out of her place. How could Sophia seem such a sweet girl and then act as rude, mean and self centered as she was acting. She knew the girls would have to realize on her own how wrong her behavior was, and she could only hope it wouldn't happen too late.

"Besides," Sophia continued as if there hadn't just been a minute break in between their talk "he's only three years older than me, it's not like he is my father or anyth-"

"What?" Hermione interrupted arranging the shirt she had just put on.

"It's not like he's my father…"

"No, not that. Tom's fifteen?"

"Yes he is." Sophia said with a mean glint in her eyes, "why? Are you disappointed? I know Tom looks older, but compared to you he IS just a child."

"Don't be stupid!" She had not been able to help exclaiming and even when Sophia looked slightly hurt she couldn't bring herself to regret her harshness. "I have no reason to be disappointed whatsoever; I'm just surprised he is fifteen. Much like you he doesn't act his age, the big difference is that he acts and talks like someone older, whether you simply act like a small child who didn't get the toy they wanted!"

And so much for not fighting with the girl in front of her.

"And how would you know how he acts and speaks, huh? He barely utters a word during meals!" Sophia said looking at Hermione like she had lost her marbles. By the time Sophia decided that Hermione was not going to answer and started getting ready to sleep Hermione was already lying under her covers.

A full minute had passed since Sophia had started getting ready when Hermione considered her calm enough to hear her like someone more mature would.

"I've spent these two days in his company, that's how I know how he talks. He's not mute you know," Hermione couldn't help but say after seeing the abrupt change in Sophia's stance the moment she heard the begging of what Hermione had just said. The girl was starting to become more annoying than Lavender and Parvati had ever been and that was saying something in Hermione's book. At least those two had known when to back off of a fight. Sophia didn't and Hermione wasn't one to quit either. She could be quite stubborn.

"You've been what – No! You have no right! Tom is mine you hear me! I forbid you from ever talking to him again!"

That was the last straw.

"Why you annoying little girl! You have no right to boss me around and decide who I can or cannot talk with! Who do you think you are? My mother!"

"No, thankfully I'm not your mother; otherwise the possibility of having you awful hair could be very high! But I'm serious! Don't speak a word in Tom's direction again, or I'll never speak to you again!"

"Fine! All the better. You'll spare me the hindrance of being polite to someone who can insult me and my mother in just one sentence!"

"How dare you – "

"Shut up! Just shut up already! I can't hear you or anymore of your wines so shut that thing you call mouth. Some people are actually trying to sleep!"

Hermione was fuming and it was with great effort that she did not get up from her bed and seized her wand from inside the beaded bag to curse the girl into the next world.

In her mind she couldn't stop wondering how she had thought Sophia to ever be a nice little girl with a cute crush on a older boy. Now all she saw was an annoying obsessive brat who needed, desperately, to grow up.

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><p>Tom couldn't be happier as he looked at Hermione and saw her face contorted into an ugly frown. She had just finished telling him the events of the past night (meaning the discussion between her and Sophia, and the fact that they weren't speaking to each other) and he couldn't help but think that things couldn't be rolling better for him. Sure, her actually talking to him while he pretend to be a nice little boy was good, but while she was angry he had hopes the chances of uncovering something more important about her would be bigger. People tended to spill the beans when they were hot headed.<p>

"I mean, sure she can be as jealous as she wants – not that there is anything to be jealous of - but she has absolutely no right to boos me around like I'm some lost puppy at her entire disposal!"

"Relax Hermione. You'll get gray hairs soon if you keep getting stressed over a little girl. Like you said, she is jealous because I speak to you and I honestly can't care less about her-"

"You're being mean," Hermione interrupted.

"I'm being truthful. Why would I try to befriend someone as crazy as she is?"

"You know what? You're right, I shouldn't get this angry. But I just can't understand her! We got along so well before this. Can't you speak to her just a little bit? Maybe she'll stop being such a brat. I bet she only likes you because you're the only one who never speaks to her."

"I don't speak to the others," Tom said shortly, momentarily forgetting to keep the nice and polite act he had been keeping. He even got as far as to sneer while he spoke and a sudden image of a black haired Draco Malfoy came to her mind. However he soon realized his mistake and put the mask back on, as if nothing had happened and he had never stopped being the best educated boy in the world.

"Why don't you speak to the others?" Hermione asked becoming curious at Tom's reaction to her comment. She knew perfectly well he did not get along with anyone in the orphanage, but the reason to that still remained a mystery she wouldn't mind solved.

"I don't really know why it started, but when I was younger the older kids liked to bully me. I remember once getting in a fight with one of them after a particularly nasty prank. After that fight – Which I won might I add – I guess everyone was just scared of me. Talk inside this small house spreads like wildfire and soon I was considered the freak of the place," Tom finished his tale happy at how Hermione seemed to be receiving his so well interpreted tale. He honestly deserved an award for acting for he had stopped and hesitated in all the right parts. Sure the fact that he had told a twisted half truth also helped to credit the veracity of his story, seeing as he didn't have to think too much about details.

"But surely new kids appeared who didn't know anything right? Like Sophia. Why didn't you try to befriend them?"

"I guess I got used to not having anyone around and liked it better that way. Besides the others would have talked and I would end up losing another friend."

"So you exclude people first so that they won't exclude you?"

"Yes… I guess that's it…" Tom said slowly, a sheepish smile in his lips.

"Then why do you talk to me?" Hermione couldn't help but ask. Tom, knowing that half truths like the ones he had been telling the girl in front of him were always a safer bet decided to stay as close to the truth as he possibly could.

"Honestly?" Hermione didn't need to nod because he never stopped talking but she still did, "Because I found you in the middle of the forest, with nothing except for a dress, flats and purse and with a terrible cold from which you managed to get better from in just two days. Because you are – at least I think you are – a good person and you have amnesia and you're not freaking out over it, accepting what is thrown at you with relative calmness. You're like a puzzle begging to be solved."

Hermione laughed softly at Tom's speech looking up at him from her position on the grass with an arm covering her eyes from the intrusive sun.

"Too bad"

"Why is that? I like puzzles."

"Precisely. The moment you decide I'm not worth the time of solving such a simple puzzle as I am you will ditch me," she continued jokingly.

"Maybe," Tom replied in the same joking manner.

Hermione knew that it was probably (most certainly actually) what would happen, but she couldn't blame him. She wasn't planning on staying very long anyway seeing as she had to go back home sometime and face its emptiness head on.

Seeing the dark look cross Hermione's eyes and interpreting for the completely wrong reason's Tom decided to change the topic to something less dangerous. With both of them lying down on the grass and the sun hitting their faces and warming their bodies up, they started talking more slowly with each passing second, until they both fell finally asleep, Hermione with her head laid on Tom's stomach sighting contently and tom smirking softly.

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><p>And this is it guys!<p>

Hope you liked it and thank you for reading!

Lady Featherweight

PS: I'm sorry to those who read this with a mistake but I've just corrected it. just so you know what the mistake was I accidentally wrote that Tom was fourteen but he is not, he's fifteen. Sorry for the mistake ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Hi there!

Finally, after an entire week sixth chapter is up! Yay!

As it as become a habit I want to thank all those who subscribed, added this story to your favorites and reviewed! However I want to send a special "thank you" to Chamilia Lutien Tinuviel for being such a good reviewer! Not only do you always review, but most importantly, you always say something about the chapter, about what happened and it warms my heart immensely. So thank you.

I have got nothing else to had, except for an apology for the slightly shorter chapter, but I had to cut it here for better coherency.

Hope you enjoy!

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

"You have no right!" Hermione shrieked at Sophia.

It had been a week since their first fight and two weeks since Hermione had stepped foot into the orphanage. Never had she left the orphanage's grounds like many of the older ones did, and the peace and quiet that she had cherished in the beginning had now vanished, giving it's place to almost constant nerves and guilt that was slowly eating her from the inside. She didn't have any kind of news from any order member but she knew she hadn't done much in order for that to happen - except sending those patronuses two weeks before. There no traces left from the cold she had caught and she was positive that the spell she was hit with had no side effects otherwise they would have manifested themselves already.

Putting it plainly she was feeling confident enough to apparate (she had been pondering it for two days already) but she still hadn't done anything to change her current situation. Combining the nerves and guilt she had been feeling for her commodity with the anger and exasperation she was currently feeling resulted in Hermione shrieking at the twelve year old in from of her, while sitting at the lunch table.

Hermione and Sophia contrary to everyone else, were no longer sitting, as both had gotten up from their seats earlier in the fight that was becoming somewhat of a daily event for everyone in the house.

None of said fights had ever reached the point the current one was reaching however, and as Mrs. Cole was tending almost twenty four hours a day to two small children who had caught chicken pox, it was up to her assistant to stop the explosive argument. All the others were silent still looking at the two fighting girls and frenetic assistant as if they were watching their favorite soap opera.

The only one who looked about ready to step in was Tom, but he too remained still in his seat.

Not that Hermione or Sophia noticed for apart from each they saw nothing else.

"You know nothing about me! Don't! – Don't you dare say that I have no friends or family or that if I do they don't care about me, just because you're jealous!"

"But I have every right to do so! You're a coward and you need to come down from that high horse of yours and face reality! You're here! You're an orphan like us! You probably were abandoned and say you don't remember anything because you're too ashamed to admit it!"

"I wasn't abandoned! Do you think I'm a small baby that can be left on the corner of the next street for some other person to pick up! I'm seventeen years old and perfectly able to take care of myself. And if you want to know so badly, yes I do remember everything and yes I am an orphan. Do you want to know HOW I became an orphan? My parents were murdered! Right in front of me! Don't you ever again call me a coward because I'm not!"

Hermione had tears streaming down her face and it took all of her self control not to get her wand out of her bag and point it at the girl – unfortunately the past days that had been a very appellative feeling. Things had gotten quite explosive in between the girls and it only took a little something to set them on each other's necks. The small little something to set them of on the fight they were currently having, was simply Sophia telling the girls beside her that Hermione was acting like a "loveless baby koala clinging to Tom like a lifeline" saying it just laud enough for Hermione to hear and answer snidely. And so the full on fight they were having developed.

Sophia actually looked surprised and slightly guilty after hearing Hermione, and so she finally admitted defeat, after an entire week of bickering by silently sitting back in her chair and continue eating like nothing had happened, something she had never done before.

She was however the only one doing so because everyone else was looking at Hermione still standing with angry tears running down her face. Mrs. Cole's assistant was in the process of sitting back down when Hermione fixed her bag on her shoulders with a glare in Sophie's direction and left the room banging the door after her. Had she been wearing black's robes and not have tear tracks on her face she would have been the perfect impersonation of Snape. The thought made her hiccup even more after she remembered that Snape was the reason Dumbledore was dead.

"Thank you for your hospitality Mrs. Cole, but I better be on my way," Hermione said after poking her head inside the room she knew the matron to be in. She had already changed in her room and was once again wearing the green dress she had been found on. The matron had barely had time to turn her head in Hermione's directions and the door was already closed with Hermione hurrying down the stairs. She didn't want to be stopped now that she had finally seen reason. How could she have been egoistical enough to stay in the comfort of an orphanage (even if said orphanage wasn't exactly the best by any standards) knowing her friends could be fighting for their lives in that very moment?

Sophia had been right in one thing no matter how hard she didn't want to admit it: she had been a coward. And it was because she realized that when Sophia had screamed it at her that she had reacted so strongly. She had never shared the death of her parents with anyone (after all she had been pretending to have amnesia) and therefore, apart from crying herself to sleep she had never truly grieved them. As if admitting it out loud made any difference she couldn't stop the tears that were flowing down her face.

The warm summer breeze hit her face the moment she stepped out of the orphanage, making her hair flare wildly around her running form. She wondered what people would think of her when they saw her in a dress, crying and running so fast one would think her to be running for her life.

Not that it really mattered, she realized with half a laugh half a sob, a combination that gave her running form quite the whimsical look. She couldn't even see anything in from of her due to the tears that never seemed to leave her eyes. She could barely distinguish the road and the sidewalk.

"Hermione!" a voice called from afar, sounding terribly out of breath. "Hermione!" it called again when Hermione showed no sign of wanting to stop on the first time.

A hand grabbed her arm and she was forced to stop abruptly. Both he and Hermione were breathing heavily, tired from the run they had just ended.

"Are you really leaving so suddenly?" Tom's voice said. She realized Tom must have followed her out and his uneven looks proved that he had indeed been running to catch up with her. His shirt was awry and his always perfectly combed hair was spayed all over his head looking almost like Harry's would on a normal day.

Hermione felt guilt creep up to her heart.

Not on one moment of her epiphany had she remembered Tom, the boy with whom she had spent every single day with (since the one he had first approached her) while she had been stuck inside the orphanage.

The only friend she had had there.

"Ugh… yes, I'm leaving."

There really was no better way to say it.

"But why so suddenly?" he asked again walking closer to Hermione who had stopped.

"Because Sophia made me realize that I have people, friends, who must be worried about me, and that I have been nothing but a selfish little girl ever since the moment I first woke up."

"I told me you didn't remember anything," Tom said mustering a sad look into his features. He had always suspected Hermione had the entirety of her memory, but had said she had amnesia because it was far easier to lie when pretending you didn't know anything. In doing so, Hermione had obviously been protecting her identity as a witch.

"I think… I think I only wished I didn't. I'm sorry I lied, but I kind of had to. Again I'm sorry, but I can't stay here. I don't belong."

"But you do. You're an orphan."

"That may be right, but I'm also old enough to take care of myself. Besides, I'm worried about my friends."

"You didn't hear a thing from them in two weeks."

"They don't even know if I'm alive or dead. They don't know I I died along with my parents or not, because they never found my body. I can't be selfish to the point of letting them believe a lie while I go on with my life."

"I'm sorry you have to leave."

Hermione remained silent. She too was sorry, but the prospect of seeing harry and Ron's smiling faces again made her almost want to regret being sorry about leaving a boy whom she had only known for two weeks behind.

"I guess I won't be able to solve the puzzle after all," Tom comment his eyes the saddest Hermione had ever seen. She had to restraining herself to not hug the life out of him and say that things would be alright over and over again until he fell asleep content with the lies he had been told and knowing perfectly well they had been nothing more than well intentioned lies.

"Granger," she said.

"What?" Tom asked, letting the first sincere emotion into his face ever since the conversation had begun. What did she mean?

"One last piece of the puzzle. My name is Hermione Jean Granger," and she turned around to leave, only to fell Tom's hand wrap around her arm for the second time that day, turning her around and pushing her square against his chest.

She recognized that this was his last attempt.

"Please don't leave."

"I can't stay Tom."

"You can't or you won't? Are you that afraid of staying here with me?"

"What are you talking abou-"

Hermione however never had the chance to question Tom's words, for in that precise moment she could feel his warm lips on hers, she cinnamon and mint taste in them, probing, pushing from any kind of answer from her own lips. She was encased in his arms, locked in his embrace with no apparent way out.

But not everything was what it seemed and there was a way out.

All Hermione had to do was push him away, getting out of his arms. She grabbed his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes with such wisdom in her own one would think she was privy to all the secrets in the world.

In reality she had only called his bluff, and for that he was surprised. He had been able to fool her during two entire weeks, but he did not manage to do so in the last few seconds he would probably ever see her.

"We don't even like each other that way Tom. You just want to solve the puzzle. You said so yourself."

So that was where he had made his mistake.

"You don't know –"

"Yes I do Tom. I can see when people love other people. They look at each other in the eyes and see nothing but the person in front of them. We're friends, but we don't love each other that way."

"You can't leave," his voice almost sounded like the one of a lost child.

"Goodbye Tom," and not giving him any other chance to try again, she turned around and started walking as fast as she could. Now that she looked around (mainly to verify Tom wasn't following her and that he was indeed still where she had left him) she noticed just how old the buildings looked, just like the orphanage had. Even the cars looked positively ancient (and were also a very rare sight).

The moment he knew she wouldn't be able to see him, Tom started following Hermione, being very careful in keeping out of her sight. He saw her turn into a desert alley and the moment he finally reached she was already apparating away. Even though he had gotten to know more about the witches origins in that day, than in all the time they had spent together he couldn't help but feel disappointed he had not managed to persuade her to stay.

Without his puzzle Tom started walking his way back to the orphanage, knowing he had nothing there that made his time worth it.

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><p>And this is it guys!<p>

Thank you for reading and please review :D

Lady Featherweight


	7. Chapter 7

Hello!

Like usual here is this week's update!

I have absolutely no idea what to say now, only that I'm so happy because of the response I got last chapter: It was way bigger than I was expecting! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, subscribed or added this story to their favorites! The only thing I could think of was "Is this for real, or am I just dreaming?"

However not everything is good news (although it's not bad news either), seeing as some people questioned me about the way I ended last chapter. It seems that it created some kind of confusion (and I apologize for that!)seeing as some of you thought that Hermione had gone back to her own time. No, and as you will see in this chapter Hermione is still in 1942 and the dust is just settling in. And for those who asked if last chapter was the end of the story rest assured that there is still a lot to come.

I don's think there is anything else to add, so please enjoy :D

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

At first, after she apparated, Hermione had thought she had somehow made a mistake. After all she had decided do go home and fetch her things before going to the burrow, where she would first look for Harry and Ron (and where she hoped with all her heart they were).

However the neighborhood she was in looked strange. The houses on her street had always been somewhat old fashioned, being well cared for nonetheless, however Hermione was positive she had never seen them so shiny and well treated. But that wasn't the main reason she had not immediately recognized her own street. Most of the houses were painted in the wrong colors, trees were planted in all the wrong places, and the tall building that had been built three years before wasn't in the end of the street like it was supposed to. Even the cars were strange, all of them looking like they belonged in a completely different decade.

On her front yard sat one of those cars, which she was certain that hadn't been there before.

Feeling dread begin to fill her from the inside she took her keys made to grab the trees from behind the bell, where her family had always kept a spare during the day, in case any of them forgot the keys, only to realize they weren't there.

"Alohomora," she said solving the problem the easiest way she could think of. Something felt very wrong in the air around her and she was afraid to even find out what it was. Her hand was shaking as she pointed the wand in front of her, looking into the unknown surroundings.

The walls, doors and windows were all in the same place, the furniture however was completely wrong. She couldn't recognize one single thing and her heart started beating even faster than it had been beating before. What was going on?

She ventured further into the hall looking at the living room and then the kitchen, her head getting lighter and lighter with every step she took. Nothing was as she had known it and she just couldn't take it anymore. She lowered her wand and leaned against the wall of the kitchen, afraid of the way everything had started to spin around her, feeling sure she would faint any minute. Nothing was in her head except the question that repeated itself multiple times: "what's going on?"

"Oh! Good afternoon! You must be Louise right? I'm Jennifer thank you so much for coming," a woman said scaring Hermione to no end as she emerged from the door in the kitchen Hermione knew led to the backyard, where she had spent many afternoons laying on the grass reading and doing her homework.

"Was the door open?" I'm such an air head! I always forget to close the door when I come home with the groceries." She said laughing at herself, not noticing Hermione's stiff position as she leaned against the wall with all her strength, white as a ghost. "The cleaning supplies are in the cupboard under the stairs, and the keys will be left under the mat for you to be able to come in. You'll start tomorrow morning right?"

Hermione's head was swirling so much as it had been before and she was beginning to be able to think coherent phrases again, but she honestly hadn't felt so confused and lost ever since she was eleven years old and received a letter to a school of magic delivered by a owl.

"Cleaning supplies?"

"Yes of course! How else would you clean the house?"

"Huh… why would I clean the house?"

"Is it not what I hired you for?"

"I think you must be mistaken ma'am. You didn't hire me."

"Of course I did Louise. Are you alright darling?"

"Ma'am my name isn't Louise," Hermione finally answered after a short silence. The woman now looked surprised and just slightly scared. Hermione saw her glancing in the direction of the frying pans hanging from the ceiling during just a tiny second. It meant Hermione was starting to overstay her welcome, but she needed to find out what was wrong in the first place. Was this not supposed to be HER house? Then where was her furniture, her photos, her drawings and notes hanging from the fridge? And was that a calendar hanging on the fridge? She hadn't know the date for a very long time, seeing as she had not brought herself to count the days as they passed, only recognizing it had something around two weeks since the attack.

She walked closer to the door fridge, aware as the woman's eyes (whose name she had already forgotten) followed her like a hawk's.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but isn't your calendar wrong?"

"What are you talking about girl? Of course not," the woman said, looking genuinely upset at the thought of something wrong in her household, even going to the point of trying to erase imaginary creases from her dress. It was only then that Hermione noticed how old fashioned the woman's clothes were.

Hermione quickly did what math she could in her head.

"But isn't it the 4th of July 19 – "

"No my child!" She exclaimed apparently no longer worried that Hermione could be some kind of thief. "Where have you had your head? Today is the 27thJuly 1942!"

Every sound was coming from very far away, as if from the end of a tunnel. Vaguely she realized that the woman was staring at her with a very alarmed expression. Hermione felt something against her cheek and after a few moments realized she had just been slapped softly. She felt that she was floating out of her body.

Hermione fell to the ground finally fainting.

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><p>Once again, in the short time span of two weeks Hermione found herself waking up in an unknown environment. She was lying down on what she thought to be a couch and could feel something wet being pressed against her forehead.<p>

"Ugh…" she groaned trying to sit up. The wet cloth fell from her head leaving a spot in her head aching painfully. As she opened her eye the woman's face was right in front of her, with a kind expression on her eyes.

"Careful," she said. "You hit your head on the kitchen table when you fell. Here, drink this, its water and sugar. It'll help."

Hermione's eyes travelled from the woman's face to the glass of water than back to the woman's face before taking it in her own, weak hands and drinking everything at once. Groaning she fell back on the pillows as the woman exited the living room with the empty cup in her hands.

Looking around Hermione resisted the urge to sob, felling a huge headache forming which wasn't a good feeling when one had n enormous bump on the head.

Whatever hope Hermione could have had about being dreaming had disappeared almost as soon as she had opened her eyes and despair was quickly sinking into Hermione's heart. She didn't understand how she had gone back in time, much less how she had gone back so much as she had. It was unthinkable to even consider such thing possible. Going back fifty something years was something that only happened in muggle movies and fictions. Wizards could time-travel, of course, and her third year was proof enough of it, but she had only been able to go back in time a few hours. Years… that simply was not possible.

Now Hermione knew the reason why nobody had tried to contact her. There was nobody that would try to, fifty years in the past, and there was no one to hear the messages she had so desperately sent through her patronus.

And she had been silly enough to worry about the second effects of apparating when she should have been –

With a sudden epiphany Hermione finally realized exactly how she had been sent to the past. It had been that strange spell she had been hit with, all those days before. But why had a deatheater sent such curse at her? She didn't even know time-travel was possible with a spell but there was no other possibility – she hadn't been carrying a time-turner or anything like that on her person.

Without knowing how to get out of the mess she was in, Hermione laid back dawn once again, her head threatening to explode with each passing second. Tears run down her face in her utterly desperate mood. She had never found herself in such a precarious position, but most of all she realized she had never been so alone. She had always had someone to rely on, first her parents, and later Harry and Ron, but now she had no one. And for that, the tears left her eyes with the speed of a bullet.

"Dear are you feeling alright?" the kind voice of the woman asked, making Hermione look up and clean her tears with her arms.

"Yes I'm fine ma'am. I'm just a little bit shaken that's all. I've been feeling a bit under the weather you see, but I'll be alright."

"If you say do dear"

"I'm sure ma'am."

"Now, don't make yourself tough just because you are in a stranger's house. Be warned that you won't be leaving until I am sure you can walk without fainting again."

Hermione was thankful that the woman hadn't just thrown her, a complete stranger, out of the house. She had absolutely no money and no contacts whatsoever in 1942 and she could use a little help before she ventured back in the world. But what about money? How was she going to survive without it?

And then a wild and not so noble idea popped into her mind. What if? Hadn't the woman mistaken her for a cleaning lady? Some Louise… Maybe, just maybe, she could fall unto that part and put some money together so that she could move easier after. It wasn't like cleaning was that hard, and if she used magic it would be a piece of cake. She even knew every corner of the house…

If she could manage that, than she couldn't hope to be any luckier in the situation she was in.

But luck did not seem to be on her side, for the doorbell rang.

"Oh! It must be Louise. Wait a bit here sweetheart," the woman said heading for the door, Hermione following silently and slowly (for she couldn't risk any fast movements afraid of not having enough strength.

"Good morning. I'm Louise, I'm here for a job interview," a very feminine voice said from the other side of the door.

"Oh yes, I've been waiting for you. My name's Jennifer Martin, do come in dear," the woman – Jennifer – said stepping aside to give room for Louise - the real one – to come in. Jennifer's eyes fell on Hermione.

"Didn't I tell you to wait in the sofa? You shouldn't be up so soon. This is Louise, Louise this is – oh dear… I'm afraid I don't know your name yet!" Jennifer realized her eyes widening as if she had just committed the worst mistake on her. Louise looked between the two of them confused.

Looking Jennifer in the eyes, Hermione finally made up her mind.

"I'm Louise."

"What?" both women in front of her said, looking confused.

"Obliviate," Hermione spoke clearly, pointing her wand first at the real Louise and sending her away and then at Jennifer (whom she had been forced to stun, in case the woman tried anything rash. Changing the woman's memory of that morning wasn't particularly easy – seeing as she had never really practiced the spell unless one counted Louise just a few moments before – but after a few minutes she finally managed it, giving the woman the memory of a perfect and flawless meeting with her new house cleaner.

"Enervate," Hermione finally said, getting her wand back in place before the woman could see it.

"Oh my! What happened?" the woman asked sitting up, looking around her, with a very confused expression on her face.

"You were taking me to the door when you suddenly passed out Mrs. Martin. Are you alright?

"Yes, I'm fine dear. Must be low blood pressure, I'll drink a cup of water and sugar after you leave."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Hermione asked once again, with the most genuinely worried look she could muster. The woman's eyes softened and Hermione felt incredibly bad.

"Yes I'm sure. Now go on our way. Didn't you say you had a consult at the dentist?"

"Yes ma'am. Thank you for your time"

"You don't have to thank me dear. Don't forget to be here tomorrow at eight o'clock; otherwise you won't have time to clean everything.

After that they finally said their goodbyes and parted ways. Once alone, Mrs. Jennifer Martin went to the kitchen to prepare a glass of water for herself, not quite remembering when she had taken the blue one that sat in the table counter out of the cupboard.

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><p>I know there wasn't any TomHermione action in this chapter, and I'm sorry for that (I really am!) but this had to be written and I guess I needed an entire chapter to do it.

Next chapter things are going to progress a bit though, so I hope you don't get too mad at me ;)

Thank you for reading and please review :D

Lady Featherweight


	8. Chapter 8

Hello! Here is chapter eight (on time :D)

Thank you so much to all those who have supported this story until now and I seriously hope you are enjoying it as much as I am. :D

I'm not feeling like giving a big author's note, so this is all for today.

Enjoy!

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

Hermione didn't spend one of the best so she made her way to her house (well, Mrs. Martin's) with an awful pain in her back, not quite understanding how homeless people could sleep in park benches and still walk the next day. How good and fortunate her life had always been!

Finding the door's key under the mat she entered the house, her head doing a quick check on everything around her. It wasn't easy to be surrounded by such familiar (yet so different) walls and not remember her summers with her parents, the time's she had laughed and the times she had cried.

Unwilling to dwell on past waters when they brought her nothing but sorrow and tears, she started working, moving her wand to every corner she could reach. She wasn't about to spend an entire morning cleaning the house the traditional way, when she could use that time to do more useful things. After everything was sparkling clean she even emptied some of the cleaning products into the toilet so that, in the long run, Mrs. Martin wouldn't find it odd that the house was always clean but the cleaning supplies always remained the same. Her trip to bathroom did not end however in only emptying the supplies as she took a much needed and desired shower. It would be long before her employer got back to the house (Mrs. Martin was only supposed to be back at noon) and she had only taken barely more than one hour to clean the entire house (which hadn't been very dirty to begin with).

With a lot of spare time in her hands she allowed herself to cook lunch for Mrs. Martin, only risking it (she didn't know if the woman would be pleased or sad with her liberty after all) because she was feeling terribly hungry and could eat whatever she cooked spare before Mrs. Martin arrived. And when she did arrive Hermione was relieved to find out that Mrs. Martin was very pleased with her work, even giving her some cake she had baked a few days before. Hermione smiled and thanked her politely before leaving with an incredibly big guilty feeling. The woman was nothing but sweet and she was doing nothing but lying to her and stealing food behind her back!

By the end of the week however Hermione did not even blink when Mrs. Martin complimented her on her cleaning and cooking skills, saying she was incredibly thankful at having listened to recommendation she had received. Naturally Hermione did not dare talking about said recommendation as she knew nothing of it. She convinced herself that she was only doing what she could to survive in the environment she had been thrown in and that certainly the situation would not last forever. She convinced herself so thoroughly that two months later she was still in the same place, the only productive thin she had done being rent the cheapest apartment she could find. Apartment which was definitely worth its price as it only had one room and one small bathroom with no hot water, though Hermione wasn't complaining. It was only what she paid for and could afford and there was no doubt that it was a hundred times better than the park bench she had slept in on the first few days out of the orphanage (oh, how that time seemed like a fairy tale now that she had been thrown into the reality she had been. How could she not have noticed then that things were too strange? How could she not have noticed that she hadn't been in her own time anymore?)

She had done some preparations of course. After several tries she had managed to put an undetectable extension charm on her beaded bag however she had not managed to save much money. Of course that, other than the rent she had barely spent any money on things other than just the essentials (such as food), but the money simply wasn't enough for her to venture into the world looking for answers as she first had planned to do.

Looking in the mirror she honestly didn't know exactly how she had expected to ever be successful in her plans. She had no way whatsoever to research to find a way back home and she wasn't any closer to find anything on her own. One only needed to look at her to realize that. She had gotten terribly thinner for only being able to afford one meal per day besides whatever she could sneak in Mrs. Martin's, and if hadn't done so then she wouldn't have saved nay money at all. A few weeks before she had considered contacting the only person she knew in this time and could possibly help her with her problem: Dumbledore. But she had declined such idea shortly after. Dumbledore was dead in her own time, and the one that she knew to be in Hogwards not only wasn't the headmaster but also had no reason to trust her at all.

Looking in the mirror and truly realizing how desperate her situation was for the first time she concluded that she really didn't have any other choice but to try her luck. He was her only hope of ever getting back home.

It didn't take very long to pack her extra shirt, her coat and her dress into the beaded nag, along with the few small trinkets she had collected during the two months she had been living in the apartment. Sitting at the small table in the room she started writing three letters, the first directed at Mrs. Martin, thanking her for her hospitality and saying she would leave due to an emergency (not specifying her what exactly the emergency was of course. The least she could do was avoid lying to the poor woman any more than necessary and then what she already had during all the time she had known her). The second to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, letter which that was sent in the quickest owl she could afford in Diagon ally and the third letter directed at Tom, her very first friend in 1942.

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><p>Albus Dumbledore considered himself quite well versed in what regarded magic .Of course he wasn't pompous enough to think he knew everything there was to know about it! Oh no! He knew perfectly well that one could never know everything about magic, because magic was a living thing, always changing and innovating. However he did consider he knew a few basic notions.<p>

And it was exactly because of those things he had always admitted as true that he did not know what to think of the letter in front of him: wasn't it a mere prank or an honest cry for help?

Eyes twinkling in the most Dumbledore like manner he read the letter in front of him for what would be the fourth the time.

_Mr. Albus Dumbledore_

_I am writing you this letter knowing I have no other choice but to do so, seeing as you are the only person I know to be trustworthy (I know you are very confused right now seeing as you have no idea what I am talking about but please read this letter until the end)._

_My name is Hermione jean Granger and I'm eighteen and I have been working as muggle cleaning lady for two months (I have been pretending to be the actual maid she hired so technically it was not me who worked for her but a muggle woman named Louise Brown)._

_Why did I do it is you are asking yourself I'm sure. Well I woke up her almost three months ago and I have no idea how to get back home. The problem is that, my home is in 1997 and as I am sure you very well know the current year is 1942. You must be thinking I'm just a young girl who as gone bonkers now, but I can assure you I am perfectly sane. I have travelled back in time and that is a truth that took me some time to get used to as I had always firmly believed that going the back in time the amount of years I have to be impossible._

_Could you please meet me for lunch tomorrow's noon, in the leaky cauldron so that I can explain myself better? As I am sure you understand I can't give to many details about my current in situation in this letter seeing as such thing could prove to be dangerous._

_Thank you for your time_

_Hermione Granger_

_PS: burn this letter as soon as you and you alone have read it. My last request should you not accept to meet me for lunch is to have your warranty that you will keep the strictest of confidences and will forget everything about this matter. I await your owl anxiously._

Needless to say Dumbledore was puzzled beyond his wildest dreams, but he had already sent the girl a reply.

Obeying miss granger's whishes he promptly burned the letter. He had already committed it to memory anyway.

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><p>Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to another as she waited outside the leaky cauldron for the clock to tick a decent hour so she could finally enter without it looking as she had nothing to do but wait for her lunch company to appear. It was true of course, but that didn't been everybody needed to know it. She refused to look desperate just because she had arrived one hour earlier than she had been supposed to.<p>

Standing just outside the door however hadn't done much to reassure her and she finally caved in ten minutes before the agreed time. She took her time choosing the table (or at least it seemed so to her) but she had only just seated in it before she got up again, so fast one would think there had been an arrow on her seat.

The reason of her quick standing hadn't been an arrow but one of the fireplaces, from where a blur purple was just appearing. It seemed that Albus Dumbledore too liked to arrive a few minutes before the stipulated time (mind that Hermione had gotten there a little over "a few minutes" but she was glad nonetheless that she didn't seem to be the only one anxious for this meeting).

"I'm Hermione Granger" Hermione said, offering Dumbledore her hand who shook it with the usual glint in her eyes.

Hermione had never thought she would see her former headmaster once again (much less a so young looking Dumbledore whose hair was still brown and the beard much shorter than she had known), but he sure was a sight for sore eyes. Just seeing him she felt all her troubles would be over in a flash and she would be home before anyone could say Gryffindor.

"Albus Dumbledore. Pleased to meet you miss Granger."

"Uh…" she muttered not really knowing what to say after they sat down. All the things she had prepared to say seemed to have flown out the window, leaving her to stare at her old headmaster while doing the perfect impersonation of a gaping fish.

"Well, we should start eating don't you think? Wouldn't want to keep our stomachs waiting any longer for their nourishment," he sai, eyes twinkling, not looking one bit uncomfortable with the situation. Hermione followed his suit ordering her food which magically appeared o her plate a few seconds after.

They were well into their lunch (Hermione looking like a black cat caught in the middle of white dogs while Dumbledore looked as relaxed and contempt as anybody could possibly look) when Dumbledore finally decided to break the silence, touching the subject that had brought them both to the leaky cauldron on a Saturday.

"I confess miss granger, that when I read your letter I imagined you to look different," he said with such ease one would mistake him for a man commenting the sunny October day outside.

"Well, not everything is as we expect is it? Thank you very much for coming – how very rude of me to only be thanking you now! – I seriously didn't know what else to do but contact you, sir."

"I am willing to help you in any way I possibly can as long as you provide some proof that you are indeed telling me the truth. Keep in mind however that I don't want to know anything too specific or relevant about the future in case your story is true. After all we want time to flow naturally."

"But – won't my presence here automatically change the future?"

"It is not my belief, no. Of course I only have personal theories on the matter, nothing proved or to specific so we mustn't rely to deeply on them."

"May I inquire what they are, sir?"

"I believe that if time travel is possible and one does indeed travel through time, then that subject is only doing what his past self already did. Meaning that there is no possible way to actually change the future, as the future is as the subject knew it because he travelled in time. Of course we are only talking about travels to the past."

"That does make sense, nut I still don't understand how my being here influences the present to be as it is."

"I guess it never does to the person who travelled."

Hermione couldn't help but agree with Dumbledore seeing as her own experience had taught her that, when one meddled with time, not everything was as it seemed. Buckbeack and Sirius back in her third year had been proof enough of that.

"Yes, I understand. But how do you want me to prove I am not lying to you without disclosing anything important?"

"That choice, Miss Granger, is only on your hands. Remember Miss Granger that whatever you tell me, you've already told me from where you came from!"

Hermione was certain her head would start hurting once again, like it had so often in the past months. She had no idea what to tell him, for she realized that saying something about the order wouldn't work seeing as the order probably didn't exist yet, and much less you-know-who for he was probably still in school. While desperately trying to find something to say her hands started shaking. What was she going to say? What if he didn't believe whatever she said and accused her of being nothing but a fraud? What would she do, all alone, with no way back home?

"You said, in your letter that you are from 1997 right?" Hermione exhaled slowly looking thankfully at Dumbledore. It would be so much easier if he asked the questions.

"Yes sir" Hermione answered.

"Tell me miss granger, what were the means you used to travel so far into your past?"

"I didn't use any means, per say. I was hit with a rogue spell, and I only realized I had gone back in time two weeks and something after it happened."

"How strange… So you don't know exactly how you got here, correct?"

"Yes. I don't know if I should tell the circumstances that led to me being hit with the spell though."

"If you feel you shouldn't than don't dear. You should act according to those feelings of yours as they are what will lead you from here on."

"I'm sorry sir, I'm getting a headache."

It is natural. I must confess I have felt inclined to help you the moment I saw you, however I don't know how we would be able to send you back not knowing exactly how you came to be here. You're eighteen are you not?"

"Yes professor."

"Then, had the circumstances been normal you would be attending seventh year at Hogwards right?"

"Yes…" she said. She did not think that telling him she wouldn't have gone to Hogwards for her last year either way as she would have gone horcrux hunting with Harry and Ron.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said taking a mite of his steak. Hermione was confused. Certainly he wasn't considering what she thought he was considering was he?

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean sir."

"Isn't it obvious? The easiest way for us to find out how to send you back is for you to come with me to Hogwards. Term has already started a month ago, but we'll just say you only got your transfer acceptance delivered recently."

"Does that mean you believe me, sir?"

"Yes I do Miss Granger."

"B-but I didn't tell you anything…"

"Your face speaks of your emotions louder than your voice speaks the words."

Hermione hesitated.

"But then… isn't it a bit too sudden headmaster? I mean, going to Hogwards… there would exist records about my schooling there, even before I attended the school in my own time."

"That the moment you first stepped foot in Hogwards as an eleven year old your future self had already frequented her seventh year in the school in 1942. And I must also remind you that the current headmaster is called Armando Dippet."

Realizing the mistake she had made, Hermione blushed. She had to remind herself not to worry about it. if she had said now then her future self had already said it.

Hermione shook her head. It was so strange to think like this.

"I must be leaving now, after all I need to talk to the headmaster and the other professors of your about your current situation, but rest assured that there are very little chances of a problem coming up. One teacher will come to fetch you tomorrow afternoon, is it alright for you?" Hermione nodded. She felt just slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be going to Hogwards that very same day but she understood that while things could move fast if Dumbledore took care of them, they couldn't move that fast.

"Your room is paid for this night. In this pouch there is money that Hogwards always provides to the students who need it. You will have to buy second hand robes and books but I'm sure you will manage. Have a good day!" and he flooed away before she could say anything else, leaving her standing with the money pouch in her hands and staring at an empty fireplace.

Feeling immensely happy she went into Diagon ally to do all the shopping she needed to do, grinning like a mad woman at how well things had went. Finally there was some hope for her, and she would be able to look for a solution out of her hell hole.

That night she lay down with an enormous grin in her lips, imagining all she would finally be able to do.

By lunch time the day after however Hermione was just recovering from a mild panic attack, for the moment she saw Hogwards acceptance letter she remembered exactly what year it was and the fact that a certain future dark Lord, who she wouldn't be allowed to kill, was attending Hogwards, just like she was about to.

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><p>So, as you have seen this chapter covers two entire months. The reason why i did that "time jump" is because I don't think you would have wanted to read much about Hermione's life as a cleaning lady for Mrs. Martin, and the story needs to pick up a quicker pace. I view this chapter as the end of a "first phase" of Hermione's "trip to the past" and her going to Hogwards will begin a kind of "second phase". I'm going to stop talking now before I spill everything about the story.<p>

I plan on updating next chapter in a week time - as i have always done :D

Thank you for reading and please review :D

Lady Featherweight


	9. Chapter 9

Hello there!

Here is chapter nine and I want to apologize in advance for its short length (shorter than usual I mean).

Also I want to thank all those who reviewed, and I want to send a big 'thank you' to Jen103 for your constructive critics. One the faults you mentioned is one I have not only in English, but in my mother language as well, and that is the 'ability' to write too much in one sentence, making it all mixed up (not something I'm proud of by the way). I am trying to get better on constructing shorter sentences, but its a battle I've been fighting for years now. In answer to you question (if Hermione knows who Tom is), no she doesn't (yet), but it won't be long until she finds out.

I also want to send a thank you to all those who added this story to their favorites and subscribed. It melts my heart that so many read this story.

Oh, and I must say I'm very proud to have passed the 20,000 words barrier (Forgot to say this last chapter, that was when the 20,000 words were posted)!

With nothing else to add, please read en enjoy!

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

It was a Sunday afternoon morning like any other for Tom, and he, along with most of the students, was having breakfast. The presence of so many students at breakfast during a Sunday morning however wasn't that natural, but it was bound to happen in the morning of a Quidditch game. Usually of course the Quidditch games did not start so early in the year, but for that irregularity one could always blame the excessive enthusiasm that the team captains seemed to have that year.

The thing that made this Sunday morning differ from all the others was the extra parcel that arrived with the Daily Prophet he received every morning. Tom paid the Daily Prophet owl and sent the other owl away with a bit of toast in its beak. He could count by his fingers how many letters he had received in the morning owl post so he had no idea what it was about. Specially because the letter was not only addressed to him, but it had the orphanage as its destination, meaning that whoever had written it, was most probably a muggle. In fact the envelope and the ink on it (which was obviously from a pen) proved that conclusion quit simply.

Tom was suddenly thankful that his housemates weren't paying him any attention. How would he explain that he had been sent a letter from a muggle addressed to a muggle orphanage? Slytherin wasn't exactly known for its good relations with muggles, and receiving a letter from a muggle wouldn't be seen with enthusiastic eyes.

How the letter had gone into his hands was what he couldn't phantom. Were the muggle mail services infiltrated with witches and wizards redirecting the muggle sent letters to their rightful destinations? Or was it done instantly by some charm or spell?

Either way he didn't really. The letter (currently in the pocket of his robes) was nothing but unwanted. He didn't even know one single muggle that could possibly send him a letter, and even if he did, he certainly did not want to receive letters from them, thank you very much.

Once he was alone in the library he took the letter out of his robes, straightening its crumpled edges. It was when he finally opened it that he realized he had been mistaken. The sender wasn't some random muggle. The sender was the witch he had met during the summer, Hermione. Wondering what she could possibly have to tell him (a boy who by all rights, she thought to be a muggle) he began reading the missive written in a regular and small handwriting.

_"Dear Tom,_

_I know it has been a long time since you last heard of me, but I couldn't go on without writing you this letter, for you were a pillar to me during the short time we lived under the same roof. I know you are probably in school right now (you have a scholarship to a private boarding school, have you not?) which means that you will receive this letter a few days after you were intended to (don't blame me since I don't know your school address, blame the slow mail post nowadays)._

_It isn't fair for me to write to you after these months, but now that I am finally moving on (and the fact that I know that we will never hear from each other again) I guess I felt the need to bid you a proper goodbye and wish you the best in your life. But I guess you are wondering why I am saying goodbye now and in such a definite way (or why I am even giving myself to the trouble of saying goodbye to someone I barely knew for two weeks). All I can say is that I've finally decided to do something productive in my life other than mope around for the life I've lost. And the reason why I tell you this is because you were a very good friend when I needed one (sure, go ahead, you can laugh at my pathetic sentimental self!)._

_I guess that leaves me nothing else to say, which is pretty amazing since when I imagined myself writing this letter I had imagined it to be much bigger that it is right now. Do try to be a little nicer to those around you (specially the little ones from the orphanage). Maybe one day you will find another person intelligent enough to realize, that deep down you are a good kid who just needs to be shown a little bit of love._

_And yes I do know you would probably not speak to me during a couple of hours for having said that, but one teacher of mine (who I do not miss one single bit) once taught me and my classmates that we should not tell lies. That lesson really sunk in._

_With the best of wishes,_

_Love, Hermione Jean Granger"_

Perfectly amused by the girl's letter, Tom stored it once again in the inner pocket f his robes. Getting out of the library he joined his classmates on their way to the Quidditch field, commenting on the approaching game and the possibility Slytherin had of winning against Ravenclaw as if he had never been away from the group.

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><p>Galatea still didn't know how she of all people had ended up the one responsible to fetch the new girl Dumbledore had gotten into the school after an impromptu staff meeting. It wasn't common (in all her years of teaching she had never witnessed such thing) to have a new student so suddenly, but that could only be blamed on Albus Dumbledore, who sure knew how to pull strings and call in favors. No matter how amazing Dumbledore's ability was, she still did not like the task that had been asked of her. She wasn't even head of house! Maybe the intent was that the girl was not to be influenced by a head of house that could possibly come in contact with her before she was sorted, but she didn't think it was very logical. She had already talked with Albus, had she not? And besides, there wasn't one student that came to Hogwards with one or two houses they would like to belong in, as they were, naturally influenced by their family and friends.<p>

Thankfully she had had time to watch the game in the morning. Merlin forbid if she missed Quidditch. She had even dreamed of becoming a professional player once upon a time.

After lunch she headed out of Hogwards grounds so she could apparate to Diagon Alley. Clutching the robes closer to her body she shivered from the chilly October air which got easily trough her summer garment. She thought to herself that it was more than time to unpack her winter cloths, specially her scarf which she missed profoundly in that particular moment. Galatea almost shivered in delight when she felt the warm air inside the Leaky Cauldron, after she apparated to Diagon Alley. Rubbing her hands against each other and blowing into them to create the heat she had been craving, she approached the counter.

"Good afternoon tom," she greeted still pressing her hands together absentmindedly.

"Good to see you Galatea! What brings you here? You finally got kicked out of Hogwarts?" he joked.

"I'm in Hogwarts duty, so sorry to disappoint you but I wasn't kicked out yet. They value me too much to do that anytime soon. I came to collect a girl named Hermione Granger; she is hosted here, is she not?" Galatea answered already sitting in the barstool. Her cheeks were slowly returning to their pinkish color as they absorbed the heat in the room.

"Oh yes, she spent the night here. Nice little girl she seems. She has very sudden mood changes though. I'm going to send for her to come down," Tom replied immediately getting one of the employers to warn the girl that a teacher from Hogwards had arrived to collect her. Galatea however was still musing about what Tom had said, and her terribly bad luck. She hadn't planned to spend the Sunday afternoon in the company of a moody teenager (Tom had said she was prone to mood swing had he not? And she had only spent one night in the inn!). Teenager who was just polite enough to say hello in the morning (she knew for a fact that that was Tom's definition of 'nice girl').

Galatea groaned and asked for a butterbear wishing she wasn't in duty so she could have a firewhisky instead, knowing the butterbear would barely do anything to soothe her mood (which was getting worse by the second, seeing as her charge had the cheek to make her wait, when she was being done a favor). Taking one big swallow Galatea glared blankly ahead waiting for the seconds to tick by faster than they were.

Meanwhile Hermione too sat on the edge of the bed staring blankly ahead, feeling the impulsive need to beg the seconds to pass by slower. It was with dread that she opened the door after hearing a soft knock. She could bet she was a truly scary sight to the witch on the other side, with her fear filled wide eyed and dry lips on skin that was to pale (or maybe to green) to be healthy.

"Yes?" her voice came out weak and in a completely strange tune, making her unable to recognize it as her own.

"A professor from Hogwarts is downstairs to fetch you, miss."

"Thank you," she answered closing the door once again. Her voice still sounded too high pitched for her hears, but was more similar to her own.

As slowly as she could possibly manage Hermione got up, putting her beaded bag on her shoulders. She had no trunk as everything she needed was inside, but she had given herself to the effort of transfiguring a box into a small empty trunk for appearances sake. She wished she didn't have too but people would find it too strange of she traveled too light, and carrying only a small beaded bag as luggage was undoubtedly travelling light.

She was already going down the stairs when she was finally able to stop breathing as fast as she had been when she started her walk away from the room she now saw as a safe heaven, after only one night there. As her mother used to say, there was no need to cry over spilt milk, and the milk had been spilt the moment she agreed going to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Better yet, it had been spilt the moment she woke up on the forest all those weeks (months actually) ago, and now the only thing she could do was deal with it head on. And, of course, avoid the future dark lord as much as she could. _"Shouldn't be too hard_" she thought, _"he's a Slytherin, will be some years bellow me and I'm a muggleborn. There is no need to ever be in the same room as him at the same time – part form meals of course but everyone is present in those so we will never be alone. – beside, there are hundreds of students at Hogwarts, what are the odds of him even look at me twice to actually notice I exist? I only have to hang on until I find a way back home."_

Felling a lot more confident she arrived at the main room of the Leaky Cauldron, meeting the "enchanting" defense against the dark Arts teacher, Galatea Merrythought. After a total of fifteen seconds of talking to the woman she realize that she was before someone who was almost like a soft feminine version of Snape.

The two of them apparated to Hogsmead and started their walk to the gate. The sun was lower in the afternoon sky and the animals announced their trip back to their nests. Only the wind remained unfazed by the change of the day, maintaining its chilling temperature and brute strength, sending Hermione's hair everywhere it could possibly go with leaving her head.

As the castle appears before their view she willed herself to pretend, just for a moment, that she was about to have a normal school year ahead of her, and that Harry and Ron would be waiting for her safely inside the castles' doors. Just for that moment the reality she been thrown into was nothing more than a nightmare, gone with the end of the night and the beginning of a new day.

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><p>As I said, I'm sorry for the shortness of the chapter.<p>

Next chapter, as you all guessed, Hermione finally arrives at Hogwarts and she is in for quite some surprises *hint*

Next update will be next week, as usual. Thank you for reading and please review :D

Lady Featherweight


	10. Chapter 10

Hey!

Chapter ten (finally!)

I almost wasn't able to update this today (and by today I mean that I wouldn't do it in the entire week, so count yourselves lucky :D It cost me an arm and leg to give this to you guys, I sure hope you like it. I don't have time to write more though (I'm running late), so I will leave the AN here.

Read and Enjoy :D

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

Headmaster Dippet was very boring in his speeches, especially when compared to the ones Dumbledore would one day give. The man spoke like a politician emphasizing only what he wanted people to hear and being painfully boring in all the other parts he didn't want to say but still needed to be said.

Hermione couldn't help but wish it were Dumbledore's voice sounding though the great hall. The only disadvantage in that would be creating yet another similarity between the current time and her own which wouldn't help in her current homesickness. There was a saying that said that home is where the heart is, and Hermione had never realized – because she had never needed too – that the heart lied in people and not in places like she had always thought. To her in the past, home had been her parent's house and Hogwarts. Now Home simply was where her friends were. Without them the places were empty no matter how full they really were.

"You must be wondering why I asked you all to be present for today's dinner. And your curiosity surely picked when you entered and saw the sorting hat, am I incorrect?"

Hermione groaned and banged her had softly against the wall she had been leaning into. The man surely loved putting up a good show.

"Hogwarts will have a new student from today on, and I expect you all to accept your new colleague with open arms."

The doors to the great all opened and Hermione took that as her clue to go in. Once before she had walked that same way accompanied by her fellow classmates, and she had felt her nerves and anxiousness has she never had before until that day. But she hadn't been walking alone then, her fellow classmates had served as a king of camouflage for no one saw the first years individually. They were a group and walked as a group until the very moment they were sorted. Walking to the sorting hat again seemed even more difficult. She was seen as an individual, the new girl. Sure she wasn't as anxious as she had been when she was eleven (she already knew her house was going to be Gryffindor) but her nerves were ten times higher than they had been then. What if, due to all this show, someone would recognize her in the future? If so, then wasn't she really changing it? Oh, she only hoped Dumbledore was right.

Faces stared at her, completely strange to her. Here or there one looked familiar but it was bound to happen with entire generations going to Hogwarts. Ahead of her was the head table and from there she recognized Dumbledore, Slughorn (who, like Dumbledore, looked much younger than she had ever imagined him to be), the professor who had accompanied her to the school (Professor Merrythought, who taught DADA) and Headmaster Dippet, who she couldn't help but feel angry at. When she had requested a private sorting, with the intention of not grabbing the attention of her classmates as strongly as she was grabbing in that moment (due to her particular circumstances it would have been a great advantage for her to pass by unnoticed), Headmaster Dipped had denied and announced that, being a new student she had to "be properly presented to the school" and what better way to do so than the sorting? Dumbledore had even sided with her (knowing of course the reasons for her request), but Dippet had been unbeatable. She could show as much displeasure with the events as she was able to, but the Headmasters love for show had fated Hermione to parade herself to entire school that night.

Finally after what seemed like minutes (maybe even hours if Hermione felt prone to exaggerate) she arrived at the other end of the great hall, where the sitting stool and the sorting hat were, along with Dumbledore who held a piece of parchment in his hands for tradition's sake (or, as Hermione preferred to view it, Dippet's craving for show). Dumbledore called her name loud and clear.

"Hermione Granger."

Very few whispers broke out in that moment as most students stayed still to look at the slightly bushy haired girl.

Hermione did not hesitate promptly sitting in the stool and Dumbledore put the sorting hat in her head. It did not completely cover her eyes as it had before, for now she could still see a little bit of the great hall, the four different house tabled right in front of her.

_"How curious… it seems you have already been sorted, once upon a time! Or shall I say, you WILL be sorted?_" the hats voice said in her head.

"If you can see that I've already been sorted, than surely your work is not all that difficult."

"_No… not at all. You are even more of a Gryffindor than you were in your childhood, even if you did gain some more traits that could entitle you to other houses. It's not every day I get to resort a student, but most of the times the house remains the same_."

"You know other time travelers?" she though, slightly hopeful that maybe the hat might have the answer to her problems.

"_Oh yes, I've encounters a few over the years. None of them are still alive mind you. I think the last one I encountered was over two hundred years ago. Oh well, but we've already talked for too long for someone whose sorting is a clear as water. Do not worry Miss Granger. Time is a very curious thing, but unlike most think it is not fragile. Things, more often than not, find their balance again. Now, as you know, you certainly belong in_ GRYNFFINDOR!"

Dumbledore took the hat of her hear and for a fleeting moment she thought she would succumb to her urges and grab it out of his hand just so she could put it back on and question it, talk about those other students who had travelled through time, discover if there was a possible way back.

But the she felt Dumbledore nudging her in Gryffindor's table direction which was cheering madly, happy that the new mysterious student was theirs to claim.

The moment she sat on the table (feeling impossibly nostalgic of her own time) the headmaster stood up in his place. The sitting stool and the sorting hat were nowhere to be seen.

"Let dinner begin," he said and dishes immediately filled the tables.

"Hey bird. I'm Phillip Smith," said a blond haired boy beside Hermione. Hermione grabbed his hand in a handshake.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said smiling. It had been a long time since she had a meal at Hogwarts and she couldn't help but start swallowing her food down, in a barely more educated version of Ronald Weasley.

"Whoa! That's one big appetite you've got there," another boy in front of her commented with a playful smirk in his lips. "I'm Thomas Martinez by the way."

"Pleasure," Hermione said shaking the hand he had offered too.

"Don't trust these two too much. They're always doing something they shouldn't," said a good looking girl who sat beside Thomas. She had brown hair and sharp features that made Hermione think she looked somewhat familiar. It was the accent thought that gave away the last clue, and Hermione had to try her hardest not to let her eyes budge out of her eye socks. How different McGonagall looked!

"Ah! How unfair you are being my sweet lady!" Thomas said throwing an arm around McGonagall. Hermione half expected her to throw his arm o her but she did not. Clearly the three of them were friends and Thomas was probably dating McGonagall, no matter how strange it sounded in Hermione's mind.

"But I'm not being unfair. I know you two," she said smiling to both boys. "I'm Minerva McGonagall by the way. What year are you in?"

"Seventh."

"I'm in my sixth. Both boys are in seventh though so you will have classes together," McGonagall said. It was very hard for Hermione to face McGonagall and not see her transfiguration teacher. Sure she didn't look as strict as the future one was, but Hermione could see flashes of her professor when her eyes sparked, or when she pressed her lips into a thing line immediately after speaking before relaxing them.

"Glad to know someone in my year," Hermione said. "I still don't have the time table, what do we have tomorrow morning?"

"That depends on the subjects you're taking. The timetables are different for everyone above second years," Phillip explained. Of course Hermione had already known that but she had to play by the story Dumbledore had given her, and that included pretending not to know anything about Hogwarts (which she thought would be extremely difficult, specially in regards to her knowledge of the castle itself – simple knowledge could be acquired in books, however knowing her way around the castle when she was supposed to lose herself countless times a week could not be excused as having read Hogwarts a history. There wasn't a plant of the castle in it.

"Hum… DADA, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

"Merlin," Minerva whispered "that's many subjects."

"I considered taking more," Hermione joked lightly. Her third year had been proof enough of how mad her choice had been.

"You're crazy!"

"So I've been told. But people never really mean it," Hermione continued joking. As a Gryffindor she knew the best way for other Gryffindor's to accept her, was to act as carefree and easygoing as she could. That would keep her mostly unnoticed when the novelty of her arrival ended.

"No matter, tomorrow morning we have arythmancy and herbology. Quite an easy start of the week," explained Phillip. They were almost done with their dinners and many students had already left the great hall. The only ones who seemed to linger for longer were the gryffindors, who seemed to want to discover something more about their new lioness, but didn't seem bold enough to interrupt the laughter and easy going conversation they could hear from the group she had joined in the beginning of dinner.

The four of them stood to leave, walking to the door like a few other students were doing. Only the slower ones were still eating now.

Hermione was pretending to be awed by everything around her and Thomas, Minerva and Phillip were happily trying to show her even more of the castle so they could laugh at the expression on Hermione's face, when another student was finally brave enough to interrupt the group, making Hermione stop and turn around so fast she almost got dizzy.

"Hermione?" he called in his smooth voice, his eyes showing slight confusion, his hair perfectly combed. Hermione couldn't look anywhere but his face and his dark eyes, staring so intensely she almost saw her own reflection in them. No matter how genuinely confused he looked or how hesitant his actions seems it was nothing compared to Hermione's wide eyes and gaping mouth. Her shoulders were tens with disbelief and a million thoughts were running through her head. What were the chances of the one person she'd met before coming to Hogwarts being a wizard? Had he known she was a witch? If so, then why hadn't he told her?

"Tom?" she finally managed to whisper back, needing to be immensely sure that the boy in front of her was indeed the Tom she had met months before. Looking him up and down she noticed how much better he looked in robes than the ragged muggle cloths she had seen him wear in the orphanage. Then she noticed his green tie and the Slytherin crest in his robes. Uneasiness crept into her heart?

What were the chances?

"I received your letter," Tom said after a few silent seconds, making Hermione Wonder through her growing nervousness, if he had said it because he didn't have anything better to say.

The trio that had been laughing along with Hermione, now stared at the two in front of them, they too with confused expressions on their faces.

"You know each other, Riddle?" Phillip asked in a polite tone.

Hermione's breathing picked up. The final piece of the puzzle had been added, and she no longer saw the boy in front of her. In his place, she saw a pale snake faced murdered, with angry red eyes. There he stood in front of her, disguised as an innocent boy, perfect student and role model.

She didn't know how she had not realized earlier, when everything had pointed clearly to the solution she had just reached. Her eyes gained a scared glint, her mouth present into a thin line, her legs moved enough to warrantee more balance and her hands moved as if ready to grab her wand and curse the boy, no, man, in front of her.

Dumbledore had told her not to worry about changing the future, but she was certain lord Voldemort had been alive and well in her own time, which meant her future self (as confusing as it was to think like that) had not killed Voldemort. The question was why? Why hadn't she killed Tom Riddle and prevented Lord Voldemort from ever rising to power? It couldn't have been the threat of Azkaban for in Hermione's mind that was a small price to pay for every live Voldemort had destroyed. Harry would never have to grow up without his parents –

Hermione turned around and left the four teenagers standing speechless at her sudden departure. She couldn't allow herself to go down the train of thought she had been going, certain that if she did she wouldn't be able to stop herself from committing a murder in the middle of a school.

She only noticed she wasn't supposed to know her way to the tower when she stopped in front of the fat lay because she didn't know the password. Feeling incredibly stupid for having committed such a stupid mistake she punched and kicked the air, wanting to be able to get any kind of satisfaction from it, and failing miserably in doing so.

"Are you alright?" a boy's shy voice asked. Hermione stopped her movements and looked at the two gryffindors in front of her, not believing her luck.

"Ugh… I forgot the password…" she said trying to look as innocent as she could. The second boy looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

"It's Exuberance," he said.

"Thank you."

The tower was almost identical to how she remembered it, and trying to avoid the stares from everyone she entered the seventh year dorms and dressed her pajamas getting inside the bed where her trunk had been. She was thankful that Minerva (she constantly had the urge to call her McGonagall or professor McGonagall so she tried to avoid it even in her thoughts, for fear she would make the mistake when she was actually speaking) was a sixth year and therefore wouldn't share a dorm with her. The last thing she wanted was being asked questions about what had happened. Hermione didn't even know the answers herself.

Only now could she understand how teachers and students had been fooled by his good looks and polite manners. She had never imagined someone as he appeared to be could be so evil, but he was. How wrong she had been to always associate evil with monstrous appearances.

Her last coherent thought before finely falling asleep around two in the morning was "_what would Harry think of me if he knew I befriended Him_?"

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><p>Thank you for reading and please review (I would really love to reach 60 reviews in this tenth chapter and I know you guy's can do it if you want to :D)<p>

Lady Featherweight


	11. Chapter 11

Hello,

I don't believe I know how to start the apology I owe to everyone who once followed or (by some kind of miracle) _still _follows, or even _remembers!_ this fanfiction.

I don't really remember why exactly I stopped updating it. I think that, as unbelievable as it sounds, the first time I told myself I would update later instead of in that moment was because I was busy doing a school a project. Understandable right? However it stopped being understanble when a few days later I still did not update, either because I was having a busy few days with school (and life in general) or because I was reading something so good that I forgot I had promised myself to publish one single chapter every week (not a difficult task let me tell you!).

As every snowball tends to grow I found myself constantly making excuses to delay the update one more day: Tests, final exams, camping, friends, family, driver license, college applications, some book I simply could not lay on the table, a drawing I had to absolutely finish before I went crazy! Basically every single thing going on my life and more. And then the months began to pass I would start forgetting about this, I would stop making excuses because I thought that no one really remembered it anymore. Even I did not remember the story exactly as I had written it. Sure I knew the rough outlining, but if _I _the author did not remember, how could I expect others to remember it!? And that became my excuse each and every time I remembered.

But then someone new would start following the story. Or someone Favorited it, or someone would review it. Then I would fell remorse for not doing what I had promised. And sometimes I would feel it during so long that I picked up my notebook and started reading the story from the beginning, trying to remember what was it that I had written that someone else, somewhere across the world had found interesting enough to follow or comment. And I would write and type and say to myself,_ this is it! you're finally doing it!_ But then for reasons I do not remember I never actually managed through those first phases.

And so four moths passed since my last update. It's been a long time, uh? I don't expect many of you to read all of this. But if you have read it, then my advice would be to go a couple of chapters behind and just pass your eye through them, so as to remember a little bit of the story before reading a new chapter.

I do believe I started this enormous author note saying I didn't know how to begin my apologies. And I've written so much and not once have I written the words "I'm sorry". Believe me, I am.

I guess that depending on the response to this chapter I will decide what to do with this story (and I will let you know).

For now, I think I have written too much so please enjoy!

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling and I'm only playing around with them.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

Hermione's first day of school wasn't going exactly how Hermione would have wished but that wasn't entirely a surprise. Gossip about the day before had spread like wild fire in true Hogwarts fashion. What was commented was that somehow she and Tom knew each other and that her reaction to seeing him been nothing but strange. On her way to breakfast she even heard a whispered "because he broke up with her. I hear she was devasta – ".

Needless to say the gossip was certainly not doing anything to help Hermione's bad mood, and Minerva had stopped trying to get any true information out of Hermione long ago. There was no going around the girl's temper. Phillip and Thomas too had found that out the hard way.

"Morning," Philip said when he joined the girls in the common room. Hermione was sporting a vexed look on her face, having been caught and held hostage by Minerva just as she had been trying to sneak out through the portrait hole unnoticed.

"Hey," responded Minerva moving her arms to embrace both boys and kiss Thomas. Hermione remained in the couch arms crossed and slightly hostile front.

"Are you usually this cheery in the morning?" Phillip asked Hermione nudging her with his elbow.

"No, but I couldn't help it today you know, with the sun shining so brightly and all that," she said her tone leaving no room for doubt that her words were sarcasm filled ones.

"What got your wand in a knot?" Thomas asked looking at Hermione with raised eyebrows.

It was Minerva who answered her boyfriend.

"I did. Apparently Hermione doesn't want to talk about Tom."

"So you asked her?" Philip asked.

"Sure did," Minerva answered with a smile on her face.

"What did she say?"

"That she met him briefly before she came to Hogwarts. Then she proceeded to tell me to stick my nose in my own business." The boys laughed and Hermione scowled further. The nerve of them, talking about her as if she wasn't right in front of them!

"Will you stop talking about me as I wasn't here!?"

Phillip put an arm around Hermione's shoulders and walked them both to the portrait hole, Minerva and Thomas walking closely behind them.

"It won't happen again sweetcake," he promised.

"Sweetcake?" Hermione asked, trying to get his arms off her shoulder. If he noticed her efforts he did not show it nor did he remove is arm from around her.

"Yep. It's your new nickname."

"Are you, by any change, hitting on me, Mr?" Hermione asked not being able to not playing along with Phillips playful tone. Hermione was beginning to realize he was impossible to resist.

"I might be," he answered his voice still playful. Hermione's scowl deepened before she relaxed her features and laughed. It was indeed very difficult staying mad at her three new colleagues, even if they, like everyone else, were gossiping with each other about her.

When the four of them entered the hall and sat in the Gryffindor table for breakfast, few heads turned in their direction, most of them going back to their own business after a few seconds. Hermione was quickly becoming happier and happier.

"Excuse me?" a meek voice of a second or third year asked.

Hermione turned around to face the young boy.

"Yes?"

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this," he said. She didn't need to look at it twice to recognize the paper and structure of the timetable.

"Oh, thank you!"

"What do you have now?" Thomas asked.

"I'm going to have arythmancy with the hufflepuffs and then herbology with the Ravenclaws."

"This morning is acceptable, but look at tomorrow afternoon. It's our worst day in my opinion," he said peeking at the paper from his side of the table. Minerva was sitting beside him completely engrossed in a transfiguration essay.

Hermione did as she was told and groaned.

"Potions and DADA with the Slytherins," she complained.

It seems that the tendency to pair these two houses on the most dangerous subjects had been a kind of tradition over the years.

"It sucks right?"

"Yes it does, and it has nothing to do with the subjects."

"You know it's really strange that you just arrived and take house rivalry so seriously. Most only pick it up after a few weeks," Phillip said in a carefree manner. It was enough for Hermione to get nervous jitters in her stomach. She couldn't believe how careless she was being.

"Sure most first years might pick it up a few weeks later, but not only am I older I have also read Hogwarts: a history and I happen to know that house rivalry is taken very seriously here."

"I'm certainly not complaining. Rivalry wins us hose points sweetcake."

"Don't call me that."

* * *

><p>After breakfast they said goodbye to Minerva who headed with other sixth years for charms and then made their way to arythmancy with Phillip. Thomas had a free period and would only join the other two when it was time for herbology.<p>

"Good morning. I hope you remembered to bring your essays because today is the last day to deliver them, so please put them on my desk before class ends. Also I want you to partner up and resolve this." The professor (who had not stopped her talking to breath properly since the moment she entered the classroom) flicked her wand making the chalk write exercises on the blackboard. Hermione, along with her classmates, grabbed her quill and started writing down the work.

"Oh no, not you miss Granger. My name is professor Tallstone," the woman said, coming to stand right in front of her. "I'm sure Phillip won't mind lending you his notes so you can study after class."

"Then what do I do professor?"

"Answer these questions so I can know how you are in this subject. Everyone did this in the beginning of the year but I ask you not to ask questions to anyone. The objective of this is to access your knowledge on the subject. Rest assured it will not influence your grade."

Hermione nodded and after taking out clean parchment she started working.

There were four problems and after fifty minutes the first three were solved. The last one however was proving to be quite the challenge. Sure Hermione had already resolved most of it, but from where she stood she could see to possible answers. The first one was the most obvious choice but she had found a small glitch in the whole theory behind it so she decided to go for the second one. She could only hope professor Tallstone would accept her unconventional conclusion.

"You have five minutes, if you can't finish it then deliver next class. Miss Granger I'm afraid you have to deliver everything today."

"Yes professor," Hermione said barely looking over all of her answers before getting up and giving professor Tallstone her roll of parchment.

"Did you finish?" she asked. Her classmates were already exiting the class.

"yes professor," she said. Phillip was the only one who still was inside the classroom waiting for Hermione by the door.

"Did you have any difficulties?"

"Only in the problem," she explained.

"Don't worry then. Many had trouble with it. You may go now."

* * *

><p>"Merlin! I got paired with the dumbest Hufflepuff on earth! I swear I don't know how that girl managed an E last year! I swear all she could do was stutter and agree with whatever suggestions I made! I mean I picked her because she was supposed to be a good student but I end up having to do all the work by myself!"<p>

"What are you ranting on about mate^?" Thomas asked the moment he joined Phillip and Hermione on their way to herbology.

"Phillip is upset that his partner didn't help him in arythmancy." Thomas laughed.

"Don't laugh you moron! She was supposed to be smart" Heard she had E last year! But then Vane goes and stutters her way through the whole class."

"Wait… Juliet Vane?"

"Yes."

"Mate, the girl had the biggest crush on you ever since fifth year.!

"Seriously? Well then, it's explained," Phillip said smiling, his anger towards the girl forgotten. It seemed that crushing on him was the best excuse the girl could have.

The greenhouses, much like the castle itself, hadn't changed. Even the plants seemed the same and the only difference was really the teacher – Professor Marie Binns, granddaughter to Professor Binns the ghost. That was something Hermione hadn't been expecting.

* * *

><p>Avoiding the Slytherins (one particular Slytherin named Tom Riddle) had been easy that morning. Not only had both Hermione's classes been with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff but she had come to the conclusion (after doing the math of course) that Tom was in his fifth year making it impossible for them to share any class. That kind of thinking had made Hermione relax a little bit during the morning. However with the great hall in front of her she couldn't even phantom exactly how she had managed to relax.<p>

The chances of avoiding Tom Riddle now were very small and the odds of him too wanting to avoid her certainly weren't in her favor. If he really was anything like what she had gotten to know in the summer than she knew he was more likely to be extremely curious of the reason behind her reaction towards him than anything else. It was said that curiosity killed the cat but she knew that that particular cat wouldn't die for being curious.

The boys were walking by her side, talking nonstop about quidditch (they were both beaters for Gryffindor) and had yet to notice the reticence in Hermione's steps along with her pale face. It was Minerva that noticed something was wrong with the girl when they joined her in the table. Just as they were sitting Hermione was doing a quick scan of the entire hall and after concluding that Tom Riddle wasn't present she almost did not take her eyes of the great hall doors, as if, by looking away she was inviting him in.

"Is something wrong Hermione?" Minerva asked in a low voice. The boys, seated in front of them were still talking animatedly, not noticing the exchange between the girls.

"No nothing," she answered looking at Minerva with a soft smile on her face. Minerva gave her a stern look in return and Hermione recognized once again the future professor in her features. Had professor McGonagall recognized her from the past when little Hermione first stepped into the great hall along with all the other first years? If Dumbledore was right than McGonagall along with Dumbledore himself must have recognized her. And what about Voldemort himself? She had never been face to face with him, not even when they had broken into the department of mysteries, but still, would he recognize her? A shill went down her spine. She surely hoped not.

Immersed as she was in her thoughts Hermione did not noticed Tom as he entered the great hall and sat in the Slytherin table, helping himself to lunch. He, however, did notice Hermione's presence.

"Don't look now, but Tom is looking at you."

"Tom Riddle?" there was just a tiny hint of fear in her voice, but it was so small that Minerva was not able to identify it.

"The one and only."

An awkward silence followed their interaction, broken only by Thomas and Phillips voices as they were still talking to each other. Strangely they reminded Hermione of Harry and Ron in their obliviousness to the outside world whenever they were to engrossed talking about something they were interested in, namely Quidditch.

Hermione risked a glance at the Slytherins table and found him talking quietly to a boy next to him.

"What is it with you and him?" Minerva asked the moment Hermione averted her eyes from the Slytherin table.

"Nothing really," she answered once again, knowing that Minerva (or anyone who had seen what happened the day before between the two of them) was never going to believe her. Somehow that made it easier to lie, the thought that the other people knew she was lying. In a way, she didn't want people to believe her.

"Believing every word, "Minerva said in a sarcastic tone.

"Meant to," Hermione answered nothing but honesty in her voice. She laid her fork down on her empty plate and got on her feet.

"I'm going to explore the castle – find the library if I can. I have free period before transfiguration," she said, deciding it was best to leave the hall before Tom did. Until then she had been waiting for him to leave first but had decided she would be the first to leave after waiting for him to exit the hall during five minutes.

"I'll go with you, you'll get lost by yourself," Minerva said stepping away from the bench.

"Don't worry, stay here and let the boys enjoy their meal. I'll just ask my way around the castle." From the corner of her eye she saw Tom still talking to the boy beside him, apparently still making no movement to leave.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'll see you in transfiguration boys!" she said her back already turned to them as she walked in the great hall's doors direction. Before she was out of hearing range from the trio she faintly heard Phillip complain.

" I can't believe we have double transfiguration" I bet Dumbledore will give us so much homework we won't even have time to breath. He always does."

"Your capacity to blow things out of proportion still astounds me after all these years," she heard Thomas say even more faintly, as she was already approaching the doors.

On her way to the library (and asking directions to it from the few students who crossed her path for appearances sake), she wondered how it would be like having transfiguration with her old headmaster and couldn't help but get excited at the prospect of being taught by such genius.

Already halfway to the library her musings were interrupted by the one voice she had been hoping to avoid all along.

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><p>So, I guess that it!<p>

I do not know when I will update again, but I do hope I find myself doing it sooner rather than later!

I know the chapter was not long, and it ended in a cliffhanger but it was the only way it could be logically ended (in the way I see it of course).

Thank you for reading,

Lady Featherweight


	12. Chapter 12

Hello!

Here is the Twelfth chapter and not even one week as passed! I know it's not the bigger one I've posted but it's not the shortest either! Believe when I say it had to be this way, otherwise it would mess the story flow...

*Spoiler alert *

So we have a little Hermione/Tom interaction here, but don't get too excited! It's still a while before things really get going full speed.

*End of Spoiler*

Having nothing else to say I guess I will just leave you to read. Enjoy!

******Disclaimer:** ****I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

"Hermione wait!" it called loudly, creating echo in the corridors which seemed to be taking pleasure in mocking her.

Turning around she found herself staring into the dark eyes of Tom Riddle. How could her Tom be you-know-who? Sure, he had not been pleasant towards her the first few days, but then they had actually gotten along. How could he act so normal when he was (or would be) a coldblooded murderer?

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, his voice the smooth baritone she had considered innocent back in the orphanage. Said voice was like a rose now: Beautiful but with thorns.

Hermione didn't know what to answer.

"I thought you were a muggle," she countered avoiding his question. What was she supposed to say? Sorry I'm avoiding you, but I don't really want to be near you since I know you will become the most dangerous dark lord of all times? Oh, and by the way, my best friend was prophesized to defeat you AND when you tried to kill him while he was a baby you lost your body during a little more than a decade.

Even if Hermione would like to see his reaction she would never tell him that.

"Well, I'm not. And you aren't too, obviously."

Something didn't sit well with the tone of his voice. It sounded forced, as if he had thought about it countless times before and was finally saying out loud.

Hermione saw a tiny fray of light at the end of the tunnel.

"That came out strange Tom. I mean, it actually sounded as if it was too obvious for you. It's not like you knew I was a witch before…"

He looked away. Apparently Tom had yet to master the art of deceiving others. Hermione grasped the opportunity with teeth and nails.

"You knew!?" her voice echoed in the corridors "How? Why didn't you tell me?"

"When I found you, you're wand wasn't inside your bag. I put it there before you woke up," Hermione's hand travelled to her bag. It never left her possession nowadays and she even slept with it beside her pillow.

"Still... Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione sounded immensely angry even to her own years. She was amazed at how well she could perform. Of course the fact that she was truly mad helped the act.

"I-"

"You wanted to play around with me, right? Just like the little Slytherin you are – "

"OH! So you have already learned of the rivalry between our houses!"

"I have been warned," she lied. She needed Tom to think she was just another prejudiced Gryffindor. Not enough the effort of finding out her secrets.

"Well then I guess I should just free you of my presence." Tom's voice sounded angry too, insulted even. Had she not known his true nature she would have felt bad for him. In the present case however, she only felt glad.

"Please do."

And he turned around the way he had come from, leaving Hermione free to walk the rest of the way to the library. There she would read her way through what she had left of her free period.

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><p>Transfiguration with Dumbledore as its teacher was simply amazing, and just like she had heard Phillip complain he gave them homework – a three feet long essay about human transfiguration to be delivered the week after.<p>

At the end of the class he requested for Hermione to stay behind so he could have a word with her.

"I know my way back to the great hall guys, I'll join you there for dinner," she told Phillip and Thomas who had seemed to be ready to wait for her by the door. Seeing as she doubted Dumbledore would speak about more important matters than the ones he was entlited to as her head of house she needed to send the boys away. She was very happy they and Minerva had embraced her – a perfect stranger - into their little group, but it wouldn't do any good if they found out she was from the future.

Once the boys were gone Dumbledore spoke.

"How was your first day?"

"Stressing to say the least. I recognized way more faces and names then I was ready to."

"I understand it must be hard. Rest assured I'm already researching how to send you back, but you can learn all you want about time travel too. It's always better to have another head thinking, and maybe you'll find something I missed."

"I will do so."

"Good, good. Now I believe you have your classmates waiting for you to join them?"

"Yes, thank you professor."

"Just one more thing," she said turning to look at her old headmaster, her hand already on the door knob.

"Yes Miss Granger?"

"What if someone finds out?"

"I speak only the wild guesses of an old fool, but from where you come from I would say they always knew."

"Thank you professor."

On her way to the great hall she never noticed tom on the other side of the corridor hidden in the shadows the castle tended to make. He had only heard the last part of the talk between her and Dumbledore – and only her side of it as she had been very close to the classroom's door, but it had been enough to pike his interest on her person once again. What was it she didn't want people to find out?

All he knew was that, if he wanted to know whatever it was she was trying o hide, he would have to be extremely sneaky.

During dinner he did not look her way twice – the only time he did was to find her stare somewhat angrily at her, as if he was mad at her and had decided to ignore her from then on. It was necessary to give her a false sense of security so as to ensure he would have more freedom in the future.

That night, Hermione fell asleep quicker, thinking that at least Tom seemed to be out of her hair. She decided she wouldn't have to worry much about him and could focus more on finding possible ways to send herself back home.

The moment Hermione fell asleep, Tom was still starting to write to his diary, so that he could keep record of everything that had happened during the day.

_Tom,_

_Today during breakfast…_

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><p>"Whew! You don't know the weight you have taken from my shoulders Hermione!" Phillip said the moment he joined Hermione and Minerva the next morning.<p>

Hermione who had done nothing but wait for the boys along with Minerva stared at Phillip as if he had grown a second head.

"Have you gone bonkers Phillip?"

"Don't insult me sweetcake. I am very fragile."

"What is your reason for relief, Mr. Fragile?"

"I've just come to the conclusion that you aren't moody every morning, and that yesterday was but an exception. I was tremendously afraid of your temper in the mornings if it were a regular occasion."

The smack echoed through all of the common room. Phillip rubbed the back of his head where Hermione's hand had hit.

"How can you say that to me? It was my first night in a strange place. It was only natural for me to wake up in the wrong side of the bed. Besides how can you be so sure that today is not the exception and yesterday the rule?" Hermione said not letting her voice or manners show how amused she was by his antics.

"Sorry, sorry – "he said his voice anything but sorry. Hermione smiled.

The playful banter between the four of them ended only when they had to go to charms class, Thomas happily going back to the common room bragging about how he had a free period and both Hermione and Phillip had to go and endure a class so early in the morning. Minerva only smiled, holding Thomas arm going back to the common room with him. She too had free period as she refused to have divination like some of her fellow Gryffindors were having. If someone could predict the future it would hardly be through tea leaves and crystal balls.

"Those two are so lucky! They have free period TOGETHER, and we're stuck with charms!" Phillip complained as he and Hermione began their way to class.

"Don't pity yourself too much. Next is herbology, a subject which you don't have, which means you have a free period. After that its lunch break which gives you another free period."

"I still don't understand how you can take so many classes I think you'll go crazy."

"Oh believe me: I will! It doesn't mean I won't get good grade though."

"Has anyone ever told you how big headed you are?"

"I'm not big headed!" Like Phillip, Hermione had a playful tone to her voice.

"Well… if you say so then you must be right. In that case you're just incredibly confident of your capacities, to the point of telling about them to everyone else just how good –"

"Oh, shut up!" Phillip interrupted.

"Yes miss, I do believe your partner is right, it is indeed time you quiet down." An unknown voice said from behind her head. They were already seated in class, but seeing as the teacher had yet to arrive she and Phillip had continued on talking to each other just like the rest of the other students. However they had been so focused on their playful banter they hadn't noticed the abrupt silence in the classroom, nor heard the footsteps that had approached them from behind.

"Yes professor Bulstrode," Phillip said immediately after, taking his parchment and quill out of his bag. Hermione followed the example silently seeing as all her classmates were either doing the same or had already done it.

The control the teacher had on the class was nothing short of amazing. As he practically glided across the room, neither Gryffindor nor Ravenclaw emitted a single sound. Already all the way in the front of the class, he stood still and silent, waiting for everyone to get their material out. As the last student stopped moving he smiled an empty smile and said in a polite voice:

"Today you will only need your wands so you can put your parchment and quills back in their places. Next time you must wait for my orders."

Apparently, Hermione thought, he is also a downright jerk. She couldn't help but wonder if he was related to Milicent Bullstrode, a girl that had been in Slytherin in her own time. Surely the man in front of her seemed to be Slytherin enough to be a relative (probably some great-uncle, grandfather or even great grandfather).

The students however did as he told without even blinking twice in his direction. Repeating herself Hermione thought once again that the control the teacher had over his class was marvelous.

"Today you will begin practicing the bubblehead charm we studied in these last lessons. In front of each of you are water tanks – as soon as he these words he moved his wand and said water tanks appeared in front of them. To test your charm you will test it's resistance under water. To do that you will lift the tanks to your head and then turn them upside down. Do not worry; the water is charmed to stay inside the aquarium. You may begin."

The day before, in all of her classes, every teacher had tried to make sure she could catch up with the work that had been done in class. It seemed that Professor Bulstrode preferred a more practical approach, deciding to wait and see how she did. At least Hermione hoped that was the case because otherwise the only conclusion that came to her was that he wasn't a good teacher. Assuming his super control over the class was to him actually being good at what he did the last option didn't really make much sense.

By the end of the class only Phillip had managed to hold the charm for eight minutes. Hermione was proud to be able to hold during four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Contrary to her pears she had not had weeks to study the charm, pronounce the incantation or practice the wand movements.

Even if did not show it, Professor Bulstrode was honestly impressed.

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><p>Hope you liked it :D<p>

Please let me know what you think about it!

Next chapter is already halfway typed so I think there will be no problem in updating on time next week.

Lady Featherweight


	13. Chapter 13

Hey there!

So here is the thirteenth chapter, hope you enjoy it!

******Disclaimer:** ****I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

"It's nothing personal, but I really don't like Tuesdays."

Thomas and Hermione had joined Phillip and Minerva at the lunch table and hadn't stopped complaining about the massive amount of homework they had received in arythmancy. Phillip, even not having the same reasons of the complaining pair, still joined the duo in the talk about the unfairness's of the universe.

"Oh sush! You've just slept through a whole free period while I've been burning my eyelashes off in class," Thomas said throwing a tiny piece of bread at his friend.

"And you have a lot to complain about! As if you didn't spend all of your free period snogging Minnie senseless while I put my head inside of a water tank just to see if I could cast a bubble over my head!" Minerva blushed beet red.

In the three days Hermione had known the boys she had realized that they fought constantly just like two young cubs who needed to constantly bite and scratch each other. At least they never got serious, at least not that Hermione had seen. Seeing as she had seen next to nothing she couldn't really judge them.

"Rest assured Phillip that Thomas studied during his free period, unlike you I believe," Minerva said the blush slowly vanishing from her cheeks. She had her lips pursed in a thin line and her eyes looked like pointed arrows. It was amazing how even blushing she looked like her future self. For a second Hermione thought she saw her own "professor McGonagall".

"Yeah I'm sure… five minutes no doubt," she heard Phillip mutter through his mouth full of potatoes. Hermione was positive Minerva had heard the answer but had decided to ignore it not five minutes after Hermione realized Minerva knew what she was doing in just pretending not to hear the response and go on as if he had said nothing: All three of them were already talking and laughing as if nothing had happened.

Of course that even if they hadn't made peace with each other they would still have to be together in the afternoon for their DADA and Potions class. And so, when the time came the three of them - Hermione, Phillip and Thomas – started heading for their DADA classroom, the boys telling her stories of the confrontations between Gryffindors and Slytherins during class, namely during the monthly duels. It that however the teacher was he actually cared enough to teach his students something instead of doing absolutely nothing during the year. His only fault seemed to be actually arranging duels in between the two houses, but if he wanted to teach his students any hand to hand combat that couldn't be avoided. After all it wasn't his fault that the timetables were arranged the way they were. As any teacher he simply had to work with whatever he was given.

Of course that it seemed that house rivalry between houses, even existing as it was natural, wasn't as strong as it had been in her own time. Of course that the reason for said strength of feelings was the existence Lord Voldemort and in 1942 only Tom Riddle existed.

She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was attending Hogwarts with the younger version of the man she knew would become the darkest wizard of all time. Had she gained Harry's ability to call danger to him wherever she was?

The classroom was already filling with students when the trio arrived and took their seats. Not unlike her own time, the Slytherins tended to remain in the back seats so they could be less noticed. More often than not their cunning resulted in being extremely aware of their surroundings, acting as mere observers and only participating when there would be a reward for doing so. What better place to do it than the back of the room?

There were indifferent glances in between the two houses, but no one was downright hostile. To say Hermione was finding it strange to be in the same classroom as the Slytherins without even one insult being thrown into the air was little. But no matter how strange it was she enjoyed it. How wonderful it would have been to have classes in such a calm environment back home. She didn't even hear the professor getting into the classroom, just like almost the entire class. She only noticed when the room gradually quieted down as the students saw the teacher walking down past them. The woman sure had light feet!

"As I am certain all of you have noticed today is the deadline of essay on the characteristics of the dark art's rituals," she said facing the class. She seemed to be able to look at everyone at once and take in every detail about and Hermione felt intimidated and reduced to her place as a student. Even if the reason for that feeling was different she couldn't help comparing the woman in front of her with Snape. She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered how she had always tried to get Harry and Ron to trust Snape just a little more, as obviously Dumbledore trusted him. How naïve she had been.

But after all, could she have guessed he would murder Dumbledore, when even Dumbledore himself, the greatest wizard of all time, had not?

"As you are well aware today we will begin a new chapter – which will be very good to our most recent student, pleasure to met you Miss Granger I'm professor Galatea Merrythought. As I was saying, we will begin a new chapter, and we're going to talk about boggarts."

Hermione's hand went up before anyone could even blink.

"But professor, aren't boggarts part of the third year course?" She asked the moment professor Merrythought signaled she could speak.

"Indeed Miss Granger. However, in your Seventh year at Hogwarts you go through all of the things you already studied in the past years, but with more details, or special cases that weren't approached in the past. Of course that, going through the entirety of your past lectures AND learning completely new things of the actual seventh year course makes this class very complex and tiring. Because of that you must always work very hard because I won't slow down just so you can catch the train if you know what I mean."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed. But as I was saying, today we will get started on boggarts. Can anyone remember what a boggart is?"

Several hands went up. Nothing very surprising seeing as it was one of the most basic subjects learned in DADA.

"A boggart is a shape-shifter that takes the form of whatever the person facing him fears the most."

"Very well Mr. Button. But do tell me class, when we say that the boggart takes the form of one person's worst fear, does that mean it can only take that form for that particular person?"

"Professor, isn't it possible for a boggart to take multiple forms – one at a time of course – if the person as multiple fears?" Of course Hermione knew it was possible as she had seen it happen to Mrs. Weasley at Grimmauld Place, all the way back in her fifth year.

"Correct. That is one of the specific cases we are going to study, and as I doubt any of you have more than one really big fear, I see no need for a practical class like the one you had back in your third year," multiple sighs of relief could be heard all around the classroom, and Hermione saw the ghost of a smile haunting the teachers face. She too felt immensely relieved as she had a feeling her boggart would not be anything related to bag grades.

"As all of you know, boggarts like to hide in dark closets, store rooms and every other environment that is closed and dark."

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><p>After leaving the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom Hermione was so focused on her own thoughts about how strict the DADA professor seemed to be she didn't realize she had already arrived at the potions classroom. When she did pay any attention to her surroundings she had to look twice at the man in front of the classroom. Should she be so shocked to see professor Slughorn? Probably not, and she probably wouldn't be all that shocked if he didn't look so different, yet to similar to what she remembered. In the first place he looked young and handsome (as handsome as he could ever be of course), but then he dressed almost exactly the same way he had back in her own time, as if to say that, as much different as his physical appearance was, his habits and manners were the same.<p>

In his dark green robes he walked about the room, looking positively excited, just like a child in Christmas morning.

Within the first three minutes he got the entire class working on a potion, except Hermione, whom he had treated as "my dear" not knowing her name when he told her she wouldn't be doing the same as the rest of the class.

It did not take him long after that to walk to her desk and begin the inspection of his new asset.

"I am Professor Horace Slughorn, your new Potions teacher as I am sure you have already realized. What are you called, dear?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile a little at the way he spoke.

"My name is Hermione Granger, Sir."

"Granger? Granger… Any Relation to the Grangers –"

"No professor. I'm afraid whichever Grangers you speak of are a magical family and I'm a muggleborn sir."

"Oh, yes of course. I'm sorry I assumed.2

"No need to apologize professor. It is only natural of you to question."

"Thank you Miss Granger," he said, proceeding to question her on her potion skills. Then he left her saying she could go and help her tablemates on their potion, saying that even thought it was supposed to be done in pars he would make an exception for them because there wasn't anyone without a partner.

The boys were already halfway through their work when she joined them.

"No, no! Don't do that!" she practically screamed at Phillip, not five minutes after she joined them. Phillip held his hand above the caldron, and had been about to drop three frog eyes into the mix.

"Why? It's what the instructions say," he said.

"You forgot to cut them in half."

"Oh."

By the time they were finely able to finish their potion there were scarce minutes left before the end of the class. Hermione sighted in relief. While on one hand, Thomas was good in potions and managed to do everything without a single mistake, Phillip simply evoked chaos wherever he touched. However whenever she corrected him, he made everything with such a precision that she could not understand whether he was just bad at the subject or simply very distracted when it came to reading instructions.

"Did you receive my note Thomas?" Professor Slughorn asked after dismissing the class.

"Yes I did professor, both me and Minerva,"

"So I will be seeing both of you there, as usual?"

"Yes professor."

_Of course that Slughorn wouldn't really have been himself, if he didn't host the Slug club, _Hermione realized with a small smile on her face. The professor was just like sea water. It may look slightly more green or blue, but in the end it was always water.

Slughorn looked to be positively bursting with joy, not noticing the less then excited look in his favorite's face.

"I saw you working today, Miss Granger. If keep up that good work maybe you can join us," Slughorn said. Hermione did not ask who "us" was, merely smiling in answer. Was she wrong in daring to hope to be long gone before that could happen? She told herself it wasn't that much impossible considering she now had the help of Dumbledore, who was after all, the greatest wizard alive.

Maybe, just maybe, she could go back home soon.

How she longed to see Harry and Ron and hug them until she couldn't feel her arms. Talk all night long with Ginny when they were supposed to be asleep. Eat Mrs. Weasley food while the woman consoled her on the loss of her parents.

Hermione felt a pang in her heart. How easy it was sometimes to forget their deaths while she was in Hogwarts. Somehow, falling into the usual routine of studying and classes made easy to imagine that they would be home waiting for her when the holidays arrived.

"Maybe one day," she answered hoping that day happened the way she remembered. In her fifth year, far away in the future.

"Finally!" Phillip exclaimed barely after they left the classroom.

"Why Phillip, it's obvious you absolutely adore Potions," Hermione commented already walking the way back to the common room so they could leave their things before going to dinner.

"If you mean that I am not enamored with the subject then you are absolutely correct sweetcake."

"If you hate potions so much why are you taking the NEWT level?" Hermione asked.

"Because he is afraid of his mother," Thomas answered in a mocking tone before Phillip could.

"I am not!"

"Yes you are."

"You have to admit that my mother can be pretty scary."

"Yes she can, mate."

"Ah! So you give me reason."

"Still say you shouldn't take potions if you don't want to, but you already know my opinion on the matter."

"Guys, Guys! Can you – Little red hippogriff – put me up to date? I'm afraid I am not inside the matter of discussion." Hermione said as they reached the fat Lady's portrait.

"My mother is a potions mistress, and she insists in me taking the mastery too."

"But you are an absolute disaster in potions," she couldn't help saying, blushing when she realized how rude she had been.

Thomas barked laughter sounded all around the common rom. Phillip merely smiled.

"He is the best in potions I have ever seen a student be. How do you think he managed to get into NEWT level?" Thomas replied when he stopped laughing. Both he and Phillip were already sitting on a sofa, seemingly without a care in the world.

"I hadn't thought about that," she answered.

"As Tommy here said, my mom wants' me to become a potion's master after I leave Hogwarts, but I don't want to, and the easiest way to get out of that track is by failing potion's NEWTS."

"That makes no sense! You could get a good grade and still not become a potion's master!"

"Not according to my mother."

"But what do you want to do then? After you leave Hogwarts I mean."

"I'm going to be a Quiddittch player. I'm Gryffindors beater."

"I can't understand why you would trade potions for quidditch, but that's only the bookworm in me talking. If you want to, I think you should play. However I don't agree with your methods."

"Too bad," Phillip said before heading up for the boy's dorms.

"It's good you tried, but his head is hard as a rock. I don't think he is ever going to change his mind," Thomas said. "Be dawn in five minutes so we can go to the great hall?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, immediately going up the girl's stairs. She could fell herself fitting in so easily with Hogwarts lifestyle that she could scared.

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><p>I know there wasn't any HermioneXTom action in this chapter, and I'm sorry for that, but I promise that it will come with time :D<p>

With that I hope you liked and please review:D

Oh, I almost forgot! Are Fridays a good update day for you? If not what other day would you prefer me updating?

Lady Featherweight


	14. Chapter 14

Hello there!

Here is the fourteenth chapter! I have bad news for you thought: next week I won't be home so I won't be able to update, but I will try to have the new chapter up by Monday or Tuesday of the week after so it's not all that bad! Problem is that I'm going to start college that same week so the chapter will be updated later in the day.

That's all, please read and enjoy!

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen<strong>

It seemed that Hermione's reputation as a know-it –all followed her. It hadn't taken her a week in Hogwarts and not only was she known as the new girl (something that almost never happened in the school) but also as the girl whose hand was always up even before the professor finished asking whatever it was he was asking.

To that reputation was added the fact that she had taken to carry more books around than the one's the lessons demanded. They were, of course, books from the library that she had loaned and was currently reading. The covers read things like "Transfiguration at its worst", History: true or false?" and "What not to do in potions". What no one could actually see was the insides, spelled so that only Hermione could read the true contents of the texts, which talked about basic time travel theory and recent discoveries. Needless to say she was devouring the books quicker than Ron would eat his mother home cooked dinner after an entire day of Quidditch with his brothers.

"Honestly, how can you?" Phillip asked as he and Thomas joined the girls after goofing around in the black lake. It was nice day for November and both boys had decided to spend their Saturday afternoon outside. Hermione and Minerva had been dragged outside too, but had decided to lay reading under the sun instead of running around like crazy cats, as the boys had been doing all afternoon.

"How can we what?" Minerva asked sitting up to kiss her boyfriend as he sat beside her.

"Read in this beautiful afternoon," Phillip said in a complaining tone joining the trio in the ground.

"And what do you propose we do? What can you offer us that's possibly good enough to pry us away from our books?" Hermione answered looking away from her book to stare at Phillip.

"Oh, I can think of a few things," Phillip answered in a suggestive tone leaning against Hermione. It had become a habit of Phillip's to flirt with Hermione every second he could. It set Hermione's teeth on edge.

"Oh, don't start now!" Hermione answered.

"Come on, Hermione! Don't be so heartless."

"I'm not heartless. I'm honest."

"Pft… Honesty is overrated. Someday you will give me reason and ask yourself why you denied me for so long."

"Please! I've known you for a week!"

"Merlin! I'm wounded… Minerva! Please save me from her." Minerva and Thomas however were locked in a loving embrace away in their own little world. Phillip grabbed a small stone from the ground and threw it at the couple. Thomas made an angry sound and threw himself at Phillip making them both roll on the floor. Minerva who hadn't noticed what had happened looked at both of them confused.

Was it really so awful that Hermione was enjoying her time with the trio?

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><p>Tom had always enjoyed the library. He wasn't a bookworm (or anything like it) but that didn't mean he wasn't interested in what the books in the library provided. At first he had visited is as an attempt to know more about the beautiful and mysterious world he had – fortunately – been thrust into. But then, the knowledge he obtained became sufficient to warrant his fluid passage among those who had always lived in the magical world, and yet he still kept reading those leather clad tomes, learning new things with every turned page. He craved for answers to questions he hadn't known and those he could only find in books. And so, once or twice a week anyone could see Tom deliver the books he had loaned and search during entire hours for new reading material.<p>

AS he went to the library that afternoon he wasn't expecting anything out of the regular proceedings. But then, ha also couldn't have guessed that Hermione Granger would fight with him over a book.

"I'm sorry but – you!" she said after Tom grabbed a book from a pile that was on the floor.

"Hermione? I'm sorry, are you going to loan these books?" Tom asked pointing to said pile. He still had the book that had been on top in his hands.

"Yes, these and the one you are holding, so if you could put it back where it was I would be very grateful."

He looked at the pile of books and at the book in his hands. "_Uncovering the mysteries of time_" its title read.

"I didn't know you were into divination."

"You don't know anything about me."

"Ouch. Must you be so bitter? I know we only spent two weeks together but –"

"Those weeks were a lie, because I didn't know you were a wizard even if you knew I was a witch, Therefore this argument is over and I would really like the book back," Hermione whispered as loudly as she dared. She had no intentions of talking to the future dark lord, much less about the weeks they had spent together. And to think she had actually thought him to be a good boy! Ever since finding out his true identity she had wondered if she could have killed him then, before he even grew up to make any kind of damage. But then why didn't she kill now? It wasn't like he was out of her reach, or even suspected she could be planning his death every time she glanced his way.

Dumbledore had said that no matter what she did it wouldn't change the future. Did that mean that Voldemort was alive because she had been too much of a coward to kill him when she had the chance? Or was he the way he was because she had indeed done something to trigger whatever it was that created the monster of her time?

Whatever the choice was it scared her. After all did that mean that no matter what she did, in the end she was fated to doing something, meaning in the end, that she had absolutely no free will whatsoever?

Could she kill him?

Was it even possible for her to do so, or was she fated to stand by and to absolutely nothing?

Hermione looked up straight into Tom's dark eyes. It wouldn't be so difficult –

And she understood exactly why Lord Voldemort still existed in her own world, despite the fact that Hermione had the chance to eliminate the problem before it even became a problem.

She saw herself in those eyes. Saw the entire days she had stared right at them, completely ignorant of what his future would be. In those brief moments she had considered herself kind of happy. Tom had been the happiness in the difficult situation she had been in.

That happiness she had cherished so much stood there, covered by the casual look on his face. Face which stared at her completely ignorant of her plots f murder.

Ignorant.

Undefended.

Innocent.

Because that was what Tom Riddle was in that moment. He was still innocent. Just a young boy who was much too curious about the dark arts, but had still not committed one single murder. A boy who had yet to decide his future.

It wasn't difficult to see how Tom had had the opportunity to grow up and become Lord Voldemort. Hermione simply could not kill him. Even if she knew that one day he would no longer be innocent.

She could only hope that when the right time came he would pay for it.

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><p>Tom was tired.<p>

Surely Hermione wasn't capable of holding such a grudge against him just because he hadn't told her he was a wizard.

Good Merlin! What would she do if she knew everything about him? After some seconds he concluded that considering how she was reacting after such a little thing she would probably kill him almost immediately for what he was.

"You already made things pretty clear in what comes to your feelings about me. That however is not reason enough we shouldn't reach an agreement. You're going to loan those books and I only want this one. I'll read it first and give it to you after. You will have all those to read before this one."

Tom could see her hesitating and he could imagine why. She had already showed great distaste in having to talk to him, and the kind of arrangement he was trying to create meant that they would have to talk to each other again.

Of course that was the only reason Tom was trying to make the deal in the first place. He had already read the book and had picked it up with the sole purpose of checking something he was pretty sure he had gotten mistaken in his notes.

He wasn't going to complain though. If life gives you lemons make lemonade.

Reluctantly Hermione nodded her head.

"Be as fast as you can. These books won't last me long."

Tom nodded, thanked her and left. It was better not to push his luck.

He waited six days before finally talking to Hermione again. He had thought that maybe it was better to let her wait a bit more, but once again decided it was better to be on her good graces instead of giving her an even worse impression of him.

"Here; Thank you for letting me borrow it," he said after dropping the book in the only free space in the table where Hermione was studying. In his five years in Hogwarts he had never seen a library desk so full. It was a miracle how the girl managed to navigate through all the open books and parchment written with a tidy and tiny handwriting.

"Oh. Thank Merlin. I am going to need tomorrow or maybe even tonight if I can finish this in time. Thank you,! She said barely lifting her eyes from the parchment where she was writing and drawing diagrams to complicated to understand without serious amounts of study.

"It's an interesting book. I think you will like it," Tom said trying to stretch the moment as much as he could. Surely all the planning and waiting he had been doing wouldn't be in vain.

"I hope so."

Or maybe it would, for Hermione's tone was nothing but dismissing.

Tom felt frustrated. Just what did she have against him?

Back in his dorm Tom opened one of the two black notebooks he owned. One was where he wrote every essay and research he ever did. Of course that it had already been magically expanded, because there was no way five years worth of research would fit in such a small book. The other one was his diary where he wrote every single day.

"_Dear Tom,"_ he wrote.

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><p>Thomas, Phillip and Minerva were, for lack of a better term, starting to get worried. Not because anyone was sick or hurt or any other thing of the kind. When one thought about it, compared to all those other endless reasons someone could be worried about, their particular reason was pretty simple: It seemed that the newest acquisition of their group simply studied too much. Who knew that could ever be a problem? Even Thomas and Minerva who considered themselves good studious students had never managed to work as hard as Hermione was working. Not even during their OWLs and they suspected they wouldn't reach the new record the girl had set during their NEWTs either.<p>

It simply shouldn't be possible for the human brain to support such work load.

It had started about a week before when Hermione devoured her entire dinner within six minutes so she could go back to the library. She has never gone there after dinner, preferring to lounge in the Gryffindor common room with her friends.

However one day weren't days and the trio barely batted their eye lashes two times.

It took her four minutes and thirty-three seconds to eat her dinner the day after. Apparently there was something extremely interesting in one of the books she had found the night before, and she wanted to look at it before the night ended. Phillip joked about her having to be careful in case the words ran away from the book before Hermione had a chance to read them. Hermione was already halfway through the great hall.

The rest of the week she did not even bother appearing for dinner, preferring to grab some fruit, cookies and milk on the kitchen before going to sleep.

The work level was reaching the insane border and the trio simply wouldn't have any of it. It wasn't healthy!

In that afternoon before dinner they confronted her in the common room (her first appearance there in seven days). However they weren't surprised for very long. What difference did it make if she in the common room or in the library if she was holding a book in her hands and reading it as if her life depended on it?

Thomas peaked at the cover: _Uncovering the mysteries of time._

_Uh, divination, _he thought.

They sat together in front of her.

"What?" she asked looking up at their faces, all with the same determinate expression.

"Hermione, we think you are working too much. It isn't even exam's week and you don't rest for one minute."

Hermione blinked. Sure it wasn't exam's week but Hermione had barely spared any time for school work doing only the essential. Her research on time travel needed advance as quickly as possible. She had already lost so much time before even coming to Hogwarts!

"I'm fine, really."

"But love, surely you could rest a little more, hang out with us…" Phillip said moving closer to Hermione. He had certainly taken a liking to her and made absolutely no effort in hiding it.

"Thank you for your concern, but I know how to take care of myself," she said half angrily.

"Still, maybe you could come with us to the grounds tomorrow. It's Saturday afternoon and with how much you have been studying certainly you can spare the time."

"Fine," she grudgingly accepted not knowing how to refuse Minerva's begging tone. "But only because it's been a while since we all hang out together."

Phillip had begun cheering the moment he had heard her positive answer and by the time she finished speaking he was already on his feet and pulling her to him, hugging her and then spinning her around.

"Fine, fine! I gathered you're happy but put me down. I still want to finish reading this book tonight."

And so Hermione went back to her place right by the fire and continued her reading. No one heard Hermione utter another word all night long so enthralled she was in her book, but they weren't all that much worried anymore. She had agreed to go outside with them the following day, and they would make sure she relaxed.

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><p>Hope you liked it!<p>

Now I have a question to ask you: what is your opinion about Tom? Anything you find odd about him? *Hint,Hint*

As I already said I will try to update on either Monday or Tuesday of the week after the next (don't get confused :P)

Thank you for reading and please review!

Lady Featherweight


	15. Chapter 15

Hello!

I know it has been a very long time since my last update and I have no excuse but other than the fact that I don't have time for almost anything outside of college and a few personal projects. I sincerely apologise for the delay, and assure you that this fanfiction isn't abandoned, and I will always try to update the next chapter, even though I can't tell when that will happen. Meaning: updates will exist, however they won't be regular (as they were in the begging, when I still went to high school and had much more time in my hands).

So, excuses made, I hope you like this chapter.

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p>To say Hermione was thankful for her friends jumping in her too busy study schedule was an understatement. At first, of course, she had been reluctant. She had so much to do, and not doing anything during one whole afternoon just seemed irresponsible.<p>

The moment she laid down under the Autumn sun, enjoying what little warmth it provided she completely changed her mind, regretting the foul mood she had been on when she was dragged away from her books. As it often happened when she got excited about something she had lost control of her work load, stuffing herself with work until the maximum. Back home she would have had Harry and Ron to control her mad ways. She could only be thankful that, somehow, Minerva, Thomas and Phillip had managed to do the same.

"Ah…this feels do good," she whispered putting her arms behind her head. How could she not have noticed the amount of stress her body had accumulated? She was just so stiff.

"Finally!" Phillip said throwing his arms into the air. He was sitting against a tree, and if Hermione dare to be honest with herself she would have admitted that, in that moment the blond haired boy simply looked gorgeous.

"What?" Hermione questioned.

"You admitted we – he made a gesture with his hands to say he meant all three of them – were right!"

"Uh… yes, I guess you're right. Thank you guys, I really needed this."

"You're welcome Hermione," Minerva said smiling at Hermione. "Rest assured we will force you to abandon your books again if things get as bad as they got."

"Oh yes. I almost went crazy just watching you go around," Thomas said in a joking manner.

"It wasn't that bad."

"Sure it was. You looked possessed by the bookworm devil!"

"Phillip!"

"Okay, okay. Sorry Bird. However I am not saying it isn't true thought."

Hermione groaned and closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>When Hermione had finally gathered the guts to actually do something about her situation, she had imagined herself in a kind of dream where everything went perfectly well. She had dreamed that at most, within a week she would have found the key to go back home. Of course she had known those were impossible dreams, but as long as one dreamed things actually felt possible. So she had imagined those situations lying awake in bed before falling asleep.<p>

Then she arrived at Hogwarts and started researching every bit of information she could find. Everyone knew knowledge was power but in her case it was even more than that. It was her ticket home.

During the first times she had imagined she would find the solution to her problem maybe within two or three weeks, if she worked really hard for it. Then maybe she could be back home in a little over a month.

Of course she hadn't always been glued to the library and its books, her three newfound friends had made sure of that, so she still had to find the time to walk around with them and just relax by the fire in the common room. She had also taken to do that every three or four days, because Tom apparently took that time to read a book from the library and then he would spend his entire free time looking for his next "prey", reading and opening the most varied books. She knew how to recognize those days when he carried a book in his and during breakfast.

Hermione would rather keep away from him as much she could, and they hadn't talked to each other ever since their agreement over the book. Anyway, that book had turned out to be a complete failure to her research.

Tom had, after that, attempted to reach her once again, but Hermione had managed to avoid him like the plague, and after a little more than a week he finally got the message. An unsaid agreement had happened in between them and neither made any effort to talk to the other, something Hermione was very grateful for. Still once in a while she would catch him looking in her direction during lunch – the only time they were together in the same room, except the library in those few days Hermione couldn't predict Tom's presence.

However, on those few occasions their eyes met he wouldn't look at her again the same day. Not that Hermione was paying attention.

No, she had more things to worry about, like the fact that she hadn't managed to come by one single worthy bit of information. It seemed that there only existed conjectures and ideas so preposterous that they seemed to belong in a muggle book and not an actual wizarding book. The worst part was that it was already the first week of December, meaning that two months had proved fruitless.

Hermione turned on her other side, adjusting the bed covers to her new position. She felt like she had already tried everything to fall asleep that night, but it seemed that her mind to shut down.

Was she ever going to see home again?

She turned again looking at the gap in between the bed curtains that allowed a bit of light into her bed.

Should she just give up and start building a new life?

She turned up facing the ceiling of the bed. Even though the night was cold, just it was to be expected during a December night, she could feel sweat on her back and neck, where her hair helped building up the heat. She turned her pillow and sighted happily as her cheek met the cold portion of it. In less than two minutes she was already turning around again. The pillow had warmed up again so she turned it again, wishing that the other side had had the time to freshen up. It hadn't.

"Tempus," Hermione whispered after grabbing her wand._ 00H24_ the numbers in the air read. Angrily she grabbed the bed curtains and pushed them aside. Light snores could be heard all around the room as her colleagues slept peacefully through the night. Hermione dressed her robe over her pajamas.

As noiselessly as she could she left the room. She wouldn't want anyone to wake up and ask her what she was doing. If she was the only one doomed to suffer then she wouldn't bother the others. Besides, why bother them if she couldn't even tell them her problems?

No. There was only one person who could help her with those.

Unfortunately getting to that person at that particular time of the night meant getting out of the tower and breaking curfew. Of course she had already done that plenty of times in the past, but most of those times she had had the aid of Harry's cloak or even the marauder's map. Something she obviously did not have in that moment.

Without the aid of those particular objects she had to resort to the old tricks: stick to the shadows, be silent and have the hood on at all time.

There were only two Gryffindors left in the common room and both seemed to be studying, or maybe writing essays (probably due the next day). Unfortunately for Hermione she couldn't reach the fat lady's portrait without walking past them. The only thing she could hope for was that they wouldn't react the way she must surely would if their positions were reversed.

"_How much of a hypocrite can I be_?" she mused to herself trying to walk past them with the most natural look she could muster. If she was lucky they wouldn't even notice her. After all they looked extremely focused on their work.

"Hey, where are you going?" asked one of them. It was only then that Hermione noticed the prefect badge in the boy's robes and cursed herself for not noticing it before. Of course he wouldn't let her pass, how could he, if he was a prefect?

But then, Hermione too had once been a prefect, and that hadn't stooped her from sidestepping the rules once in a while. And was she or was she not a Gryffindor? Besides, the prefect was a mere boy who couldn't really do anything to arm her. After all, it wasn't like she really cared for anything school related in the time she was in. There was only one main concern: to get home. No one would stand in her way.

Besides, she really needed to have a tête-à-tête with her headmaster: Albus Dumbledore.

"Hey! I asked you a question!" the boy asked after realizing Hermione was not stopping. Before he could blink Hermione was out of the common room and on her way to Dumbledore's office (which she had to remember was not the headmasters' office but the Transfiguration one. which in her time would belong to Minerva).

It was amazing how reality was different from the movies her parents liked to watch so much, where the actors could hide in shadows as easily as they breathed, run silently and never get tired. Sure she wasn't running, but even walking she felt she was doing too much noise, besides she could see all of herself, so she wasn't really as hidden as she wished she were. Of course all that could be fixed with magic, but being in a hurry as she was, she hadn't really considered that possibility.

"Do come in Miss Granger," Dumbledore's voice sounded from the inside of his office before Hermione could even knock. She did not bother herself I trying to guess how he knew she was at the door. There were some things she was used to not questioning about Dumbledore, and knowing these little things was one of them. He was Dumbledore and that was enough to explain it.

Hermione entered closing the door after herself.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would turn up. Sit please miss Grange," Hermione did as she was told, making herself comfortable in the chair he had just conjured.

"Does that mean that you have found something?"

It was impossible not to hear the almost desperate tone in her voice. Dumbledore seemed to gain a couple of years as he sighted and adjusted the half-moon glasses on his nose.

"Unfortunately Hermione I have yet to find any definite answer to the problem we have at hand. There are many theories but most of them are based in no concrete matter. If I had found any kind of clue I would have told you the moment I was sure It was a possibility worth looking into."

"Yes, I've been having the same problem in my own research," Hermione said leaning back against her chair. Every time she allowed herself some kind of hope it was only to be crushed almost instantly.

"And I'm sure that just like me you won't give up on your own search."

"Do you think I should have any kind of hope sir?"

"I think that as long as people hope everything is possible. It is when one stops hoping that things become more complicated."

"I wish I had enough strength to thinks like that."

"Oh, but you have! I don't think many people would handle what you have been thrown and still be able to keep their head."

"That doesn't mean I'll ever get back home."

"Everything will find its natural course Hermione."

"But please professor; do you have anything, any shadow that indicates some kind of possibility for me?"

"I am looking into some manuscripts, but it's too early to tell anything. And if they tell me nothing rest assured Hermione I will move on to the next clue until a solution is found."

"I don't know what I would do without you professor. I truly don't."

Dumbledore's kind eyes gazed at the crying form of the girl in front of him. She couldn't believe she was crying in front of her headmaster (or future headmaster as one preferred to see things) but who else could she have that liberty with. No matter how many "friends" she made in the foreign time she was in, she could never tell them her secret, she could never talk her head out to them, or cry her eyes out on their presence.

"There there," Dumbledore said after a few moments, patting her slowly on the head and offering her a tissue so she could clean her tears.

"Thank you," she whispered her breathing still slightly accelerated.

"You're welcome my dear. My door is always open whenever you may need it."

_Thank Merlin for that_ was the only thing going through Hermione's head on that particular moment.

* * *

><p>The air in the corridors was charged with magic (more so than what was to be expected during that time of the night), and Hermione felt the little hairs on the back of her head begin to stand. Something just felt <em>not right.<em>

Before even thinking about what it was that she was doing she was already moving faster, the magic getting thicker and thicker the more she walked. Soon small whimpers could be heard and along with her pace her heart too, accelerated. Definitely there was something incredibly wrong.

"Hello?" she called, not being able to locate the source of the noise. "Is anyone there? Hello!?" she continued.

At the end of the corridor the door of one of the classrooms suddenly opened and four hooded figures stepped out running. Hermione would have started running were it not for the odd whimpering form on the ground of the classroom they had left behind. The classroom was just like any old classroom. Empty shelves, dusty desks, and the most varied little trinkets spread all around. The boy bleeding on the ground was the only thing that looked out of the picture.

Hermione immediately approached him and checked for pulse, seeing as he had stopped moving or whimpering, and felling extremely relieved after having found one, she checked his wounds, which were fortunately only superficial.

"Are you an angel?" the boy asked about halfway to the infirmary is body suspended in the air by Hermione's spell.

"No. I don't think angles exist," Hermione answered with a small smile. With just that one question the boy's origins were very clear. How could he know of angels if he didn't have any kind of muggle contact? After all, only muggle cared for angels.

"Oh, but you must be! You saved my life, and you're very pretty! If you are not an angel, then angels don't exist at all!" he said wide eyed and as enthusiastically as his weakened body allowed.

Hermione merely chuckled deciding to leave the boy to his own musings.

"We're almost arriving champion, so you must rest ok?"

"Arriving where?" he questioned his voice already showing how much he really wanted to rest.

"The infirmary, champion" she answered back sweetly.

"My name is John. John Smith," he said falling asleep mere second after.

Hermione chuckled at the irony. There couldn't be one name that screamed "muggle" more, even if the Pocahontas movie from the Disney didn't exist in 1942.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading :D<p>

Lady Featherweight


	16. Chapter 16

I must apologize for not updating anything in such a long time. I don't even know if anyone still remembers this. I know I forgot it. I don't have any more complete chapters written in advance (only bits and pieces here and there). As I think I have already mentioned, I'm in college, and things are pretty busy around here. I don't know when I'll get around to write again. I'm sorry to anyone who is reading this.

Maybe someday I will read this story again, and will myself to write some more. I have the entire storyline written, just not the chapters, and even though I could write it in a few thousand more words, I want to finished the way I imagined it.

Anyway, do read on. Maybe some day, if you guys still remember this exists, you will be surprised to find new chapters. One never knows. ;)

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling

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><p>"We must catch the culprits!" Armando Dippet yelled, spit falling from his mouth. He hadn't enjoyed being risen from his bed at two in the morning, but he was absolutely furious when he found out the reason for it. How dared the students attack a defenseless colleague! A first year none the less! He had never heard of such atrocity! The poor kid had never stood a chance against his four attackers. Only Merlin knew what could have happened if they hadn't been stopped.<p>

"Are you sure, Miss Granger, that you saw nothing that could identify them?" the headmaster asked showing a great effort in speaking slowly. Hermione thought his head might explode from all the blood that had gone into it in his angry fit.

"Like I said headmaster, I didn't chase after them because I saw John on the floor, so I really didn't look at them all that well."

Dippet breathed in and out slowly.

"Breakfast shall be mandatory tomorrow morning. Warm your respective houses professors." The four head of houses nodded their heads. "You may go, all of you. Do not forget to warn your houses immediately. I don't care that the entire castle is sleeping. Look carefully for anything that might seem suspect."

"That was quite something you found Hermione," Dumbledore said once they were alone on their way to the Gryffindor tower.

"I sure wasn't expecting to. Was this the first attack of his kind?"

"I believe so. At least to my knowledge it was."

"Hum…"

"Are you sure you don't know who was behind it?"

"I don't know professor."

"I'm afraid I must ask this Miss Granger: you don't know as in you really don't know, or you're just not sure about it?"

"I'm not sure professor. Like I said, I didn't see anything but…"

"But you suspect something."

"I do."

"Can you tell me your suspicions?"

"I don't know sir. I guess only time will tell."

And then they were forced to stop their conversation due to their arrival to the Gryffindor tower. Hermione was only thankful. She didn't know whether or not she was going to tell Dumbledore what she thought, and the excuse to stop talking was just amazing.

One inside Dumbledore's Sonorus rose everyone from their beds, and the mandatory breakfast was announced.

* * *

><p>As Hermione ate her food, she watched Tom Riddle and his friends. Headmaster Dippet, looked very severe but had yet to make any sort of announcement. However the group's behavior was already strange. Every single student in the great hall was curious, and their whispers flew from seat to seat faster than any owl. Only a few first year boys looked nervous and anxious, which Hermione thought was because of their friend's absence during the night. Tom's group however looked slightly nervous and anxious too, under a false pretense of curiosity. One had to be looking for signs like stiff shoulders, and sudden movements to loud noises, to really notice that anything strange was going on.<p>

"Good morning students. Most of you are probably wondering why you were called here this morning. Unfortunately, I have bad news. Bad news that, a very small group of you, is already aware of.

You see, the reason we are all assembled here today isn't a good one. Last night, a fellow classmate of yours, was attacked and tortured by a group of students," loud gasps ran through the room, and the little first year Gryffindors looked particularly alarmed. Their friend knew nothing of their friend still.

There were, confirmed by eye witness, four attackers. These four students remain unidentified, and everyone in this room is from now on a suspect," low groans and protests were heard all around. Dippet raised his voice so as to be heard above everyone else. "The only two exceptions shall be John Smith, the first year Gryffindor who is currently in the infirmary, and the student who discovered the scene last night. In respect to that student's whished his or her identity shall remain confidential.

Now, all of you have a very important task to perform. By the end of the day, if the culprits deliver themselves, then their punishment shall be less severe than if they are found. However if by then there aren't any culprits everyone will be punished," even louder groans and protests. "Silence! Anyone who knows the identity of the attackers and fails to tell me, shall be considered equally guilty." There was no stopping the screams and cries of injustice. The noise was so loud that it seemed to have the sole objective of breaking every glass in the room.

Actually the sound of glasses breaking could be heard, but that was probably just the idea of protesting of some students.

"SILENCE!" Dippet shouted once again, effectively bringing silence into the room with his magically enhanced voice.

"You will do as told, and there shall be no discussion. Now, of to your classes, you're already late."

Needless to say that day, the last thing the students had on their mind where classes and the teachers really couldn't blame them.

* * *

><p>I can't believe we're all going to be punished because the idea of fun of four pathetic dumbasses is torturing eleven-year-olds!" Phillip complained as he, Thomas, Hermione and Minerva walked their way to the great hall.<p>

Dinner had been something every student was dreading that day.

"We don't know Phillip. There is a chance the culprits were found."

"You don't believe that Minerva, so don't bother saying it." Phillip replied.

"You're always complaining about something, someone has to try to reign you in."

"I know I haven't spent much time with you guys yet, but I don't think changing that about Phillip is possible," Hermione commented, her voice lowering a bit when they entered the great hall. The usually noisy place, was very silent as every single student was talking in whispers.

"Too true," Minerva replied in an equally ushed tone. "I don't know why I even try anymore."

"Hey! Don't talk about me as if I'm not here." Phillip said, a bit too loudly for the room's standards, turning some heads on their direction. Thomas sighted.

"Enough of this lets just eat before he headmaster begins speaking."

Hermione agreed silently, taking a spoon of soup into her mouth. Something in the corner of her eyes caught her attention. AS she looked up she saw a pair of eyes watching her from the Slytherin table. Tom Riddle didn't seem to be the least bit embarrassed to be caught looking, and let his gaze remain where it was. Hermione, stubborn as she was did not look away either. Next to him, his Slytherin mates talked in hushed whispers.

It was the headmaster's voice that broke their gaze but Hermione did not look away before glaring at the four Slytherins seated next to the blue eyed future dark lord. Out of her line of vision, Tom merely lifted an eyebrow before he too, looked in the headmaster's direction.

"It was a sad event that provoqued this morning's reunion," Dippet started. "And it's with sad news that we speak again this evening. Apparently, whoever it was that committed this night's atrocity isn't brave enough to face the consequences of their acts. You have one last chance right now. Anyone? I can't say I wasn't expecting this answer.

AS you all know the entirety of the student body is going to be punished. There shall be one mandatory study hour every day until the beginning of Christmas holidays. And during this weekend every single student is dismissed from homework as they will have the opportunity of delivering every task assigned until Wednesday. And why am I giving you this homework free weekend you ask? Don't look so hopeful there. You will spend the weekend cleaning the entirety of the castles floors without magic."

This time there were very little protests, as most of the students seemed to be stunned to silence.

* * *

><p>No matter how many times Hermione had thought in the past that her arms were about to fall off, nothing could compare to this. Writing hours without end, practicing wand movements and spells, carrying heavy books from one part of the castle to another one; nothing could ever be compared to scrubbing the entire corridors and halls on her knees.<p>

It was Sunday afternoon, and the previous day and half where finally taking a tool on the entire student body, who just couldn't wait for the day to be over. The probability of the floor getting as dirty as it usually got in the next few days was very slim, as every student would be sure to be extra careful so as to not ruin their work. And they sure where bound to appreciate the house elves works a lot more.

"Hey Hermione, can you do that corridor while I finish this up?" a Gryffindor whose name Hermione didn't remember asked. Hermione looked at the tiny corridor. Not only was it narrow (only large enough to pass one person at a time) but it was also short as Hermione could see it ended about four meters after it began.

"Sure," Hermione answered.

Scrubbing was such a common sound that weekend that it was easily dismissed and classified as non-important by their brains, their thoughts gaining the absolute domain of what they "heard". Hermione in particular found herself frequently wondering if she should have allowed Dippet to disclose her identity. Sure, she didn't want her name on any relevant records (the school records of herself as a student in 1942 were troublesome enough as it was). But had it been worth the effort? Her rational side claimed that it was. Her arms however ached so much that she was sure if they could talk they would scream at her for the rough treatment they were receiving.

Another recurring thought to Hermione's head was the four students who she was almost sure had been the ones attacking little John Smith. But the one problem that came with that theory was their leader's absence, for she had dug a bit, and had discovered that Tom Riddle had entered the Slytherin common room after dinner, and had stayed there.

Of course that particular information wasn't very trustful because it had come from another Slytherin, and if there was one thing Slytherins protected, it was their fellow housemates. Still, Hermione had only seen four people that night. But if Tom wasn't present, then had the minions been acting alone? Or had they been acting on his orders while he had stayed in the common room, with the perfect alibi in case such thing would be needed?

Needless to say Hermione didn't know what to think. Yet, her thoughts were so loud that she didn't hear the sound of scrubbing that was getting closer and closer to her.

"Ouch!" the person said after their feet collided rather strongly.

Hermione, who had been caught unaware, jumped so much she managed to spill the entire bucket of water and soap that had been right beside her. She immediately got up to avoid the water and so collided again with the person, who had also gotten up, and sent themselves once again to the floor, and ended up staring right into Tom Riddle's eyes. The saying "think about the devil and the devil shall appear" had never been more correct.

"As much as I enjoy us in this position you're getting kind of heavy Hermione," he said, his voice still weak from the impact of the fall. It took Hermione a couple of seconds to process what he had said, so when she finally got off of him she was blushing like a bride.

"I was going to apologize, but considering your rude behavior I think it's best if I don't."

"Ah! But it's your fault I'm hurt, and it's your fault we fell," tom said while he tried to clean his wet robes with his wand. Hermione followed his example even though her robes weren't as wet because she had landed on him and not directly on the ground.

"It's not my fault you were standing in my way. I had my back to you, and last I checked I don't have eye in the back of my head," she replied annoyed, because even though she wouldn't admit it, she knew he was kind of right.

"Sure! You're the one who's right. From what I ear you never admit you're wrong. Hermione Granger is always right! Shame on anyone who says the opposite," Tom replied his voice getting colder by the second. Hermione could only wander if his temper always escalated that quickly or if she was just special.

"And what is it you have been hearing?"

"Oh! Many things! But my special favorite is one I've heard only recently. It seems that someone has been enquiring a few Slytherins – first and second years mostly – about my whereabouts a few nights ago. Now, What I wonder Hermione is, what is it you wanted to know?"

Hermione felt all the blood draining from her face. Oh, how careless she had been! How was she supposed to get out of this mess?

"Wh- uh… I…"

"What happened?" he asked his voice as unemotional and cold as she was sure any voice could become. "Cat got your tongue? I asked you a question; you damn well better answer it!"

"You are nothing to me, so don't you dare try and boss be around!" Hermione exploded. "You have no right to demand me answers about MY life so you better mind your own business!"

"Is that a threat I hear?" he asked, stepping closer to her. He was so close Hermione had to tilt up her neck to be able to look him in the eyes.

"A warning," she answered turning around and all but running back to the common room, the cleaning all but forgotten. She could have sworn Tom's eyes had turned red during their fight, and all she wanted was to flee as fast as her legs could take her. For the first time she had seen Voldemort in him, and she hadn't liked it one bit.

As for Tom, he went back to scrubbing the floor, still incredibly mad and containing himself not to go after the girl and demand the answers he deserved. What did she know about him?

That night, red eyes disguised by a charm, tom opened his diary.

_Dear Tom_, he wrote.

* * *

><p>Until we "see" each other again someday.<p>

Lady Featherweight


	17. Chapter 17

Hey! I found a lost chapter among my papers, so I decided to type it and post, seeing as it really is the last chapter I have written. As I said in my last update, maybe someday I'll write some more again.

I hope you like it (whoever is reading this). Have a good day. :)**  
><strong>

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. K. Rowling and I'm only playing around with them.

* * *

><p>No matter the year, the last week before holidays was always characterized by the excessive amount of work imposed on the students. And the older they were, the bigger the load. However no matter how overloaded the students were, there were very few who didn't get contaminated by the Christmas spirit that just floated in the air.<p>

It was precisely that lack of enthusiasm that put the trio's teeth on edge. How could their new friend be so cold and apathetic in regard to the particular time of the year they were in?

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me for the holidays? I guarantee you my parents wouldn't mind… besides it would be nice to have a friend in the house: grandma Smith can be quite pushy and a little support would be nice," Phillip said during lunch. Hermione looked up from the essay she was reviewing for the second time.

"Philip I told you already. I'm staying at Hogwarts. Not only do I have to study but I don't care all that much for Christmas," Hermione said going back to her essay. It was amazing how good Hermione had gotten at lying through her teeth. After all, if she didn't care about the holidays she wouldn't be crying herself to sleep every other night when she wasn't tired enough to fall asleep immediately. "Besides," she continued "I already put my name in the lsit of people staying at Hogwarts for the holidays."

"Nobody studies during Christmas. But I'm not going to bug you anymore."

"Thank you" she said getting up to follow Thomas to the library. Now that she had finished lunch she needed to finish her history of magic essay. Besides, the longer she could occupy her head with school, the she thought of one of the few names that had also been on the list. One she had desperately wished wouldn't be there: Tom Riddle."

* * *

><p>"It's getting late Hermione, are you coming for dinner?" Thomas asked. After class they had gone to the library again to finish the last work to be delivered the next day. Phillip and Minerva had showed up during a little while earlier in the evening, but hadn't stayed long as they hadn't any work to finish.<p>

Hermione sent Thomas away breathing in relief for finally having some alone time. The days had been practically unbearable with Philip offering his home constantly, and Minerva and Thomas pushing her to accept, saying they didn't want her to spend the holidays all alone at Hogwarts.

No matter how much Hermione didn't want to spend the holidays at Hogwarts, just the thought of not spending the holidays with her parents or the boys was unbearable. Oh how she missed all of them more and more every day. Frustration was starting to get the best of her. She researched every time she could, and still, she just couldn't seem to find anything. She had to go home! Time had passed so fast, and it was Christmas already. She should have been with Harry and Ron. She should have buried her parents. She should have been trying to destroy Lord Voldemort once and for all. Instead she was in Hogwarts, in a time that wasn't hers, with people that were older than her, that were her teachers, that were the very person she should be spending all her efforts to kill! And the truth was that, even she tried she wouldn't have been able to kill Tom. Because here he was just Tom. The boy who, once upon a time, had been her only friend. The boy who was still, kind of innocent and lost in the world.

Tears went down her cheeks against her will. And the very same Tom she was thinking about, who had been sitting a few tables away noticed. He rose and sat by her side, alerting her to his presence.

"Are you all right?" he asked a very startled Hermione. He got no answer. Instead he watched her pack and leave without looking back. If she had, she would have realized him to bit genuinely hurt, his eyes never abandoning her leaving form.

* * *

><p>It was getting late. Almost everyone was busy packing or enjoying the last night spent at the castle before leaving to their homes. Hermione however, one of the few who would remain in the castle, had no such worries. Instead she was headed to Dumbledore's office. She'd been with the trio in the common room when a third year told her Dumbledore had asked for her. Phillip had joked that she would be expelled for having way too good grades. Or that she was getting hired by a super-secret group who needed know it all's in their project. She had smiled and joked along.<p>

The matter was probably more serious though. She could only hope it had something to do with her problem. That he had found the answer to the problem since her own research had proved fruitless.

"Come in Hermione", he said after she knocked.

"I think I found the answer to our biggest mystery to the date, "Dumbledore said after a silent pause, looking Hermione in the eyes.

Hermione felt her hear in the throat. Had Dumbledore really found out how she had winded up in the past? Could he discover who had sent her? Did he know how to send her back?

Somehow the way he was looking at her told her that whatever answers he had collected they were not the ones she had been hoping for, or expecting. The twinkle in his eyes was almost inexistent.

"Does that mean what I think it does?" Somehow she couldn't bring herself to say what was going through her mind. Was she hooping for too much?

"It means that I finally discovered what spell sent you here. Its characteristics match you description", he answered, eyes never leaving Hermione's expectant face.

"How?" she didn't need to say anything else, for her former headmaster (or future, depending at how one looked at the facts) knew what she meant. Anyone who knew her relatively well knew what she had wanted to know: everything.

"As I am sure you realized," he began, his voice similar to the one someone would use when telling a story, "Hogwarts library, including the restricted section, offers a reasonable amount of information on time travel, however not one of the situations explained fir into your own situation. After going through all I could reach, which included raiding some friend libraries, I was finally starting to ponder the possibility that you could have been hit with a undocumented spell."

"Someone's creation," Hermione said already knowing that hadn't been the case, and feeling immensely thankful for it. Even she had contemplated said option once or twice.

"Precisely. That of course could have complicated matters a lot, but knowing that some chance always existed I kept looking. Just this morning, I went to visit an old friend of mine, Nicholas Flamel, have you heard of him?"

"Yes, he is a famous alchemist isn't he?" She asked, realizing that telling him that in her own reality he probably had already died seeing as the philosopher's stone had been destroyed in the end of her first year.

"Yes, he is, among other things. Nicholas has seen a great many deal of things in his life, and after a lot of thinking I decided to share your story with him. I would trust him with my life, and if anyone could help your situation, the chances he could do it were high. And, fortunately I was right. He gave me this book."

"Sir, I don't understand this language. What is it, Spanish?" Hermione asked looking at the thin, handwritten journal in her hands. Its cover was brown and had nothing written, contrary to the inside where few, and very thick sheets of paper were thoroughly written.

"It's Portuguese der Hermione, and you can keep that, it's a copy of the original journal just like the one I have myself. I'm sure you will read it most attentively, but do you want me to explain the most important part?" Hermione simply nodded, taking her eyes of the brown leather cover.

"Like I said I had suspected, the spell which brought you here to be a non-registered one – for reasons I'm sure you can understand. Documenting a time-travelling spell could prove to be very dangerous for the natural balance of the world."

"But didn't you say that no matter my actions, my own future wouldn't change, because it was the product of my coming here?"

"Indeed. But you are one person, and you have travelled without real intention to do so in the moment it happened. The natural balance would have been corrupted if you hadn't travelled."

"I don't really understand how that happened, but please continue professor."

"Oh yes. As I was saying, the spell that brought you here is called Ordem Natural, which translates to natural order. Its creator was a Portuguese witch who designed to save her son from death after birth. Hence the name "Ordem natural" for she claimed to want to keep the natural order of life. After experimenting the spell, she realize that, while it could have its uses, it couldn't be used to bring someone to the future – her dead son in her particular casa – because when doing so the body of the person that travelled from the past to the future, would try to age so quickly that the person would die an instantaneous death. Also the body would eventually snap back to its correct time period, totally un-aged."

"So technically, the child died because the mother tried to save her?"

"Correct. After she realized what had truly happened she documented everything in her Journal in hopes that no one would try to do what she had tried. However she died before she could publish it. The diary then traveled through many hands until it finally landed in Nichola's."

"But what are the other characteristics of the spell? What about my case?"

"Yes, yes… the spells incantation is _corrigere ordene_ and its results depend entirely on the caster. This means you were sent to this time because the caster intended you to. It was a completely conscious effort."

"But why?"

"That Miss Granger, is a question I cannot answer, For I too don't know."

"And does this journal talk about counter spells, or anything to reverse it? Some way to send me back?"

"In a way. I'm afraid the spell is irreversible, but you will go back to your correct time. When, we don't know. Only the caster does."

"What? No! So you are telling me that I can go back home, but it may happen either in the next hour, or the next decade? But then I will never really 'Snap back into my correct time!' There is the possibility of me being way older when that happens! It's been months already!"

"I understand your distress Miss Granger. It's completely justifiable. However I'm afraid I can't do much about it but to advise you to read the Journal. I'm sure you know the spell to translate books.

Hermione grabbed the parchment and thanked Dumbledore. She was starting to feel numb ness creep through her senses.

Only one thought was going through her head.

There was nothing she could but wait. And that could take years.

Years!

She didn't have years. She could barely afford the months she had already wasted. She was supposed to be horcrux hunting with Harry and Ron! Not playing pretend around Hogwarts and abounding Tom no matter how difficult it was.

"Can I go now headmaster?" the name slipped through her lips before she could stop it, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Dumbledore didn't even blink.

"Sure. Of course you can Hermione. Please go rest, I'm sure you could use some right now."

"I will."

* * *

><p>Even with some of the paintings and armors being out of their place when compared to her time, Hogwarts corridor's had never seemed so similar to the ones in her time. She couldn't bring herself to care about her surrounding or where she was going, so it was almost as if she was just walking around back home. Her mind was miles away.<p>

The flagrant possibility of going back as an old lady scared her immensely. She would never be able to be with Harry and Ron then, would never fight alongside them.

To anyone who looked at her would have mistaken her for a sleep walking person. She didn't care about who bumped into her, as three forth year hufflepuffs had noticed when they ran straight into her and almost threw her to the ground and she had barely looked at them twice, preferring to continue walking slowly, as if nothing had happened.

The door to an old classroom behind her opened but she didn't hear, just like she didn't hear the voice's coming from it's inside.

"Are you alright?"

A just slightly confused voice answered back.

"Yes… I just need to rest."

"But-"

"No but's Abery."

The same way she never heard the door slamming shut, nor the steps approaching her.

"Hermione?"

It took a moment for Hermione to realize that someone had said her name.

Somewhere in the back of her head Hermione knew she should keep walking and ignore him. When she turned around however, she could barely bring herself to feel anything but despair.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione blinked.

"What does it matter to you?" she asked getting through the clouds that had previously fogged her mind. She was one step away from finally feeling the true weight of the news she had just received. Tom wasn't supposed to ask her how she was feeling.

"you seem down."

"Once again, what does it matter to you?" Hermione's voice cracked at the end.

Tom waited a few moments before finally answering.

"You're crying Hermione"

Indeed when her hands touched her checks she felt that characteristic wetness of tears. She hadn't realized she was crying. She didn't notice Tom approaching until his arms engulfed her in a warm embrace.

Some rational instinct felt the need to throw his arms away. However the irrational pate was dominant. The smell of cinnamon and mint and of Tom's shampoo, something so familiar from her short time in the orphanage, brought her back to Tom's arms, her Tom. The one that had no surname, that had no past, no future. Just Tom.

And her arms wrapped around Tom's frame and she wailed. She also hadn't noticed she wanted to cry. As she hadn't realized how much she missed a real hug, where she could cry and confess all her secrets to. Where she could simply feel the warmth and lose herself in it.

"Shhh. It's alright."

It was not. But she couldn't say that.

Had she been thinking correctly she would have realized how extremely ironic that it was the future dark lord who was hugging and comforting her.

But she wasn't thinking correctly. It was as if she was a baby and she only knew what she was shown. And all she was shown was the cinnamon and mint smell, the warmth and strength of the arms encasing her, the smooth voice that kept whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

"Shh Love… It's alright, it's alright. I'm here, I won't let you go," and as if to prove the point she could feel his arms tighten around her, almost lifting her off the ground.

If lord Voldemort was the own hugging her than surely the world was coming to an end. Lord Voldemort wasn't hugging her.

Tom was.

Just Tom.

Slowly the tears lessened until they stopped completely, leaving only their marks (on Hermione's cheeks and Tom's robes) to prove their existence, but Tom didn't let go of her and like someone had suddenly flicked the button and turned on the light she realized how wrong the situation was.

"You can let go now" her voice still sounded weak from all the crying.

"No."

It was neither rude nor pleading. One could say it had no tone at all. It was just the word, spoken as simply as it was written. One syllable. Two letters. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Tom, please, let me go."

Seldom did Hermione use that tone.

"I can't take it anymore," she heard him whisper into her ear, her air moving as his breath passed through it, to hit the ticklish spots in her neck," I can no longer pretend you mean nothing to me. I can no longer pretend to be indifferent every time that Gryffindor you're so fond of flirts with you. I can no longer pass by you and not look at you second time because I'm not supposed to care."

"Tom, W-what are you saying?"

"Hermione," he whispered. "I think I like you." "Are you alright?" she knew it was downright rude to ask such a thing in that moment, but it was just impossible. Tom – Lord Voldemort! – like her? HER? A muggleborn! Blasphemy.

"Of course I'm alright! Hermione didn't you hear me? I – "

"Of course I heard you! I just don't believe –"

Tom wanted her to believe. So he did the only thing that came to his mind. He kissed her. She felt so small in his arms. So delicate. Her perfume was sweet, ensnaring his senses. He didn't think.

And Hermione too, didn't think.

Her hands were behind his neck, her toes barely touching the floor as he held her closer to him with his hand at the small of her back.

No matter the objectives either of them had before. Neither could think. They could only fell each other, smell each other, touch each other.

It was a portrait that brought them out of theirs small little world.

"Hum-hum! You two! Hey you! That's rude you know. You're in a public corridor."

It actually wasn't very public as it didn't belong to the principal routes taken by the students, but the effect was the same. Hermione jumped out of Tom's arms, looking absolutely shocked at what had just happened. Tom's expression was one of a perfectly hurt and surprised boy.

He wasn't the only boy surprised though.

"Tom? Didn't you say you were going to rest?" It was Avery who had just appeared from behind the door Tom had come from, accompanied with all those Hermione knew to be future death eaters.

A few seconds passed from the moment Avery spoke and Tom turned around to face him. And then, inexplicably he wobbled in place for a whole second, before fainting promptly on the floor.

* * *

><p>Lady Featherweight<p> 


	18. Chapter 18

Hello there. :)

I know, I know. It has been a very long time. But guess what, summer is being good, and I've finally found the time to finish this story. Yes, you heard correctly. I have finished it. There shall be three more chapters besides this one.

And I even had time to reread everything I wrote behind, and correct small mistakes here and there, so I will start updating the previous chapters to their "more correct" versions soon enough. Do not worry though, because the story remains the same, so there is no need to reread anything.

And also, I want to send a very big thank you, to all those who have been reading, and reviewing, favoriting and following this story. without you guys, It would probably still be unfinished.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. and I'm only playing around with them.

* * *

><p>He opened his eyes and looked around. How he detested waking up in such circumstances. Discretion was needed at all times, and waking up in the middle of the floor, hurt from what could only have been a strong hit in the head AND with so many looking at him, certainly didn't qualify as discrete.<p>

"What are you looking at, mudblood!?" he sneered at the bushy haired girl hovering over him.

The hurt look on her face sent alarms in every corner of his head. What had happened?

He couldn't ask however. And could do nothing as he and his Slytherin "friends" watched her turn on her heals and practically fly away.

Not one person understood what had just happened.

However there was one, only one, that could ask.

HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom HermioneXTom

Hermione was all but making holes in the ground of her dorm. What had just happened?

In the first place, she couldn't bring herself to come to terms with the fact that she had not only cried like a baby in Tom's arms, but had also kissed him. And dare she think about it, for those short seconds, she actually liked it.

In second place, he had confessed to something preposterous. Like her? How could he possibly like her? Him? Lord Voldemort?

She shivered.

And in third and last place he had fainted. That alone would have been bad, and only she knew how worried she had been. She had lowered herself to her knees and checked for vitals so quick she couldn't even remember doing it. But that wasn't the bad part. No. It was worse.

It was when he opened his eyes a few seconds after, looking completely confused at first. And then he had looked at her. And ended up calling her a mudblood. The girl he had just kissed.

And all she could think of, was how those dark red eyes where really, really scary.

* * *

><p>Christmas holidays had two stages in the castle. The first was the euphoria spread to all the corners of the castle by every student. The second was the calmness they left behind the moment they parted on the train.<p>

Hermione had never stayed behind.

She couldn't believe how quiet the castle was. Only her, two Ravenclaws and one Hufflepuff had remained behind, along with some professors naturally.

Oh and Tom. But that was something she was trying to forget.

It had been a couple of days since that strange accident, and Hermione had gone from mad, to mildly angry with herself for having exposed her to such situation. She should have known by then that Tom was nothing but a complete nutcase, how else would he grow up to be a Dark Lord? He was obviously disturbed, and had probably started mingling with dark magic already, which could explain the sudden red eyes and mood swings.

"So much for his innocence," she thought.

There was no doubt in her mind now, that he was someone to be avoided, and so she had spent the majority of the time in Gryffindor common room, enjoying the company of her friends, and reading the little handwritten book Dumbledore had given her over and over again.

She always carried it around in her purse, but of course she already knew it by heart.

There hadn't been much to add to what Dumbledore had explained to her however. The only relief she had found was the knowledge that she would be sent back to her own time, practically from the moment she had left it (be it before or after leaving, would be the result of the casters intent), and would "recover" her own body there, or so to speak. In short, she wouldn't have aged a thing.

That had been a very big relief. No matter how much time she spent in 1942, she would go back as young as she had been before leaving, which meant she would be able to go on with her plans as if nothing had happened. She had come to think of it as something like a "hiccup" in time.

And of course she had come to the conclusion that the best way to occupy her holidays was to gather as much knowledge as she could, because that was the only thing that would someday, travel with her again. And it sure could come in handy during her horcrux hunt.

And so she started walking back to the castle and towards the library the moment she no longer saw the end of the train, where her most recent friends had just got into.

She smiled when the thought of a grown up McGonagall in her living room, telling her she was a witch came to mind. Had she known then? That Hermione would grow up to be a school friend of hers, no matter how strange it sounded?

She didn't see the hand coming out of the dark corridor.

And she didn't even have time to scream because another one quickly covered her mouth.

* * *

><p>What he had read in his diary had sent shivers down is back. How could he have been so careless? He should have known it couldn't possibly have had any other outcome then something similar to what had happened, and still he had insisted in getting to know her.<p>

He had been amazingly selfish.

But then again he was a Slytherin, and he wasn't used to feeling sorry for being selfish. Of course that lately he had been a real mess. He hadn't known it possible to feel so much different emotions at the same time. He hadn't even known some of those existed!

Love for one, he had thought that to be a creation of those who couldn't bear loneliness, or boredom. But no. It seemed that those two feelings where even stronger now that he also felt the first one.

And he just couldn't take it anymore.

Not after so many weeks lying to himself. Blaming his infatuation on curiosity, something he had always felt. Not after so many days whishing he could apologize to her for what she had heard him say after he finally had the courage to be honest with her. Well, half honest, but that didn't really matter, did it?

* * *

><p>A cinnamon and mint smell reached her senses before the voice reached her ears. Irrationaly she had already started to relax, her first instinct having recognized the arms that held her so strongly, the hand that covered her mouth so definitely.<p>

His voice made her tense up again. It was as smooth and persuasive as she remembered. Dangerous.

"Hermione, I really need to speak with you."

She only struggled in answer. Talk? How well that would go, when she was being held captive with no opportunity to voice her thoughts.

He seemed to realize what was wrong with the picture when she bit his hand.

"Fine. I'll let you go, but please, don't scream. Don't run. Please."

She couldn't see his face, as her back was being held to his chest, but there was no denying the emotion on his voice. He was practically begging.

She wouldn't be fooled. Not again.

She nodded. Slowly, she felt his arms relax, his hand leaving her face. She turned to face him.

"What do you want?" She asked. Even she was surprised at how cold her voice sounded.

He looked like a little boy who was about to receive a scolding from a very angry parent.

"I wanted to explain what happened the other day. I'm sorry I waited so long, but I didn't exactly find the chance, with the castle full as it was, and you being closed up on the tower more often than not."

The only reason she had let him finish what he was saying was her sudden need to breathe deeply, thinking that otherwise she would explode.

She did explode.

"What!? Explain what? That fact that, out of nowhere, you said you liked me? The fact that you kissed me? Or the fact that, after all that, you managed to call me a mudblood!?"

"Yes. All of that. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what!?"

"It's difficult to explain, I…"

"You what!? You're nothing but a coward, a psychotic coward, who doesn't know the first thing about friendship, or anything similar to it. I'm tired of your mood swings, of your hovering habit, of your nasty curiosity! Understand that? I can't take you anymore!"

"You don't know anything!"

"Oh I don't? Enlighten me then!"

"That's what I mean to do, but all you have been doing is shouting nonsense, and behave like a child throwing a tantrum!"

"Then do explain!"

"It's not simple."

"Oh believe me, it is. Legilimens!"

* * *

><p>He hadn't been expecting the sudden attack. His barriers were not as good as he had thought. That, or Hermione was a more skilled Legillimens then he could have guessed.<p>

"Legilimens!" He shouted back, desperately trying to get her away from his head. He wanted to tell her. He didn't want her to find out like this.

What he hadn't been expecting was the flow of images that suddenly appeared in his head.

He could see a boy, with dark hair and green eyes smiling at a younger looking Hermione. A red headed boy was sitting next to him. The really odd thing was the place they were in. He had never seen it, but he could bet it was the Gryffindor tower.

The image didn't remain in his mind long though.

A couple hugging a small Hermione goodbye at plantform 9/3. A red headed girl. A troll. A giant snake. An hippogriff. But the worst and last of all was a pale noseless man with red eyes.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle"

"I am Lord Voldmort"

He fell backwards at how hard he tried to get off of her mind.

"What was that!?" he shouted. How could that be!? How did she know? And how had he ended up looking like that. Shivers went down his spine as he remembered the snake like face. How? How? How?

Hermione was stunned. She had seen everything he had. She hadn't been prepared for such a violent attack. She had barely had time to enter his mind, before he had shouted the spell at her, effectively expelling her before she could see anything worth seeing.

But most important of all, she couldn't understand how he could be so genuinely scared with what he had seen on her mind.

"What?" she asked back, her voice the calmest it had been ever since she had been cornered by him. It barely rose above a whisper.

She could only stare as he got up from the floor and ran.

* * *

><p>I'm going to be doing something quite diferent today, than what I usually do. Since it's been a good couple of months since I updated this story, I'll answer evey review here, from then on. Starting of course with last chapter. Feel free to ask any questions. :)<p>

**Cassie-D1: **Yes, the age diference is something I had my questions about, but for the sake of the timeline it had to be that way. Glad you find it cute. xD

**lilmisslovely24:** Glad You like it.

**Angel: **I hope you see this new chapter someday. An update like you asked. ;)

**michelepotter7: **Yes. I want people to understand that Tom really is a human being, regardless of his future. And as so, he too has feelings. And I'm glad you liked it.

**TheFreakyKitty: **I must say your review was what inspired me to finally begin kicking this story again. And thank you very much for that. Thanks to you I have finished, and will publish all of it. Yes, I've always imagined Tom to be taller than Hermione, despite him being younger. And my mother language is Portuguese, so sometimes I struggle with my english, which makes writting this a tiny bit harder than it should be.

Thanks to all of you, who have supported this fanfiction. The next update shall come by the end of the week or so. Until then. :)

Lady Featherweight


	19. Chapter 19

Hello.

Hope you liked last chapter, and as promissed, Chapter 19 is published. Only two more left.:p

I've been having some issues with my computer, because no matter the browser, I constantly have to refresh a webpage for it to open, and, more often then not, I'm not able to actually open it, so I might have to send my computer to be fixed. That means that I don0t know when the net chapter will be up. Sorry about that.

Anyway, on with the chapter. Hope you like it. :)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. and I'm only playing around with them.

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><p>What the hell had happened?<p>

Hermione had all but forgotten her plans study for the day. How could she? Her head hurt from the assault it had suffered. And her mind had no other thoughts than those related to Tom. She couldn't understand his reaction. Seeing is future self… shouldn't have been a good thing? Of course that he didn't know it was is future self, for he didn't know she came from the future, but still.

She turned around on her bed once more.

The day couldn't come soon enough.

She would corner him just like he had done to her. And she would get all the answers she wanted. No… needed.

* * *

><p>Finding someone that doesn't want to be found, was always quite the challenge. But Tom Riddle brought it to an entire new level.<p>

For an entire day, she had roamed the castle in search for signs of him, when there were none to be found. He had even given himself the trouble of putting alarms near the Slytherin dorms, so as to be alerted of anyone else's presence. She had fumed after having detected them. Of course he wouldn't come out while he sensed her there.

"You'll talk to me do you hear Riddle!?" she shouted through the door, knowing he could only be somewhere on the other side of it. Naturally she got no answer of any kind.

That's when she decided to play the same game as he had.

There was no way he could remain closed up in the dungeons forever. The bathrooms and food were outside.

And so she too, set alarms all over the castle, hoping one of them would alert her of his presence sometime during the next hours.

Of course that waking up at three in the morning over an alarm finally giving any signal wasn't exactly what she had had in mind.

Couldn't he have found a better time to go the damn bathroom?

Hermione got up from the bed as quickly as she could. She doubted he had manage to sense her alarms, but there was always that chance, so if she knew one thing was that she had to hurry.

Putting her robes over her pajamas she fled the Gryffindor tower, running towards the direction of the bathroom where she had felt him enter. One of the good things of the holidays was that there wasn't anyone patrolling the hallway, so she could run all the way, not worrying about the noise or the need to keep to the shadows, since the chances of her being caught were considerably smaller.

And of course Tom too, had counted on that.

Resting her head against the door, she could hear the shower running. Breathing in relief at him stil being in the bathroom she leaned against the wall and waited.

Not half an hour had passed when the door opened and a pajama clad, freshly showered Tom Riddle appeared in front of her.

"We need to talk." She said.

* * *

><p>She could feel her heart beating furiously against her ribcage. She was supposed to be the one in control! This time, she was the one who had cornered him and not the other way around!<p>

Then why did she feel as nervous as she did?

She blamed it on the fact that she was trying to corner someone she knew to be a future Dark Lord.

The scent of the soap, and his wet disheveled hair had absolutely nothing to do with it. Of course they hadn't.

Tom looked at her and sighted. Hermione realized he had never looked quite as old as he had just then. There were dark circles under his eyes, is usually pale skin was paler than normal. But most of all his blue eyes, which seemed to shine in the middle of the darkness they were in. they looked… almost like someone who didn't have enough will to fight for what they wanted anymore.

If possible, she was only a little less scared than what she had when she had seen him look at her in rage. Being on the receiving end of the look he was giving her now was nearly as bad. She did not know what to do. Rage she understood. He was Lord Voldemort. That look? She did not. Not coming from him.

"Come with me," he said turning around and walking in what she knew to be the direction of the dungeons. Her heart beat so loudly that she couldn't hear their steps.

The Slytherin dungeon had a far less friendly atmosphere than what she was used to on the Gryffindor tower. How the students could put up with such a gloomy atmosphere was beyond her understanding. No wonder they all looked so somber all the time.

She felt like a sore thumb in the middle of the posh looking chairs and sofas. Tom had disappeared into one of the corridors, leaving her alone in the common room.

She had only just chosen a comfortable looking chair near the fireplace when he came back in again, making her jump of her place. In his hands, he carried a black little notebook.

Dread filled her.

She recognized that book.

"Take your time. I'll explain any questions you have afterwards. I have some questions myself."

* * *

><p>It was normal journal. There was nothing about it that screamed dark, having no traces of dark magic whatsoever, like the one she remembered had. But it was the same book.<p>

She was sure of that.

It just wasn't an horcrux yet.

"You want me to read your diary?"

"Not all of it. You won't have time. But you're free to roam through it. There is a letter attached to it, in the back cover. Maybe you should start there."

And so she did.

It was dated a good couple of years back. The signature told her that his mom had written it before dying before even beginning to read it.

"Dear Tom

How grown up you must be by now. If I'm not mistaken, you are eleven, and in Hogwarts.

I hope you and your brother are well. How strange it must be to share your head with him. There have never been closest twins than the two of you!

Be well.

Your mother,

Merope Riddle."

"As you can guess, if there was one thing my mother was, it was not sane."

"I don't understand." She answered. The letter made absolutely no sense.

Tom sighed and grabbed the letter in his hands. And then he began to talk, almost as if he were telling a tale that was not his own.

"Merope Gaunt was a witch, descendent from an old wizard family. The Gaunt family however isn't known for its sane or powerful members. Quite the opposite. Like many of the old wizard families, the effort it took for the blood to remain clean from muggles, inbreeding was necessary. I'm sure you know what results of such reality might be. My mother must have been quite an ugly woman. However she was clever. Clever enough to fool and ensnare my father, Tom Riddle, into marrying her. But she ended up falling in her own trap and began believing that he really loved her, and that his love wasn't the result of the love potions she constantly fed him.

She was already pregnant when my father left her. She never saw him again. And I don't know how, she ended up giving birth in wool's orphanage. There both me and my brother were born, very much healthy, just like my mother. A few days afterwards she left, only to come back not one month afterwards, bed sick, begging Mrs. Cole to take care of her children. Only one baby was handed to her. Merope Gaunt died that same night.

This I know from Mrs. Cole's mouth. Both my mother and my brother had died, and so, I grew up on the orphanage alone.

You saw me there. You saw how I kept clear off of everyone else. That wasn't always the case.

As a child I had frequent headaches. It was when the blackouts started, that things got worse. One day, I woke up and I was on lock up. There to elder kids that was in the hospital. They were later transferred to another orphanage. I never discovered what happened, but it was clear I was the guilty party.

And that's when I began to close myself up. No one wanted to be friends with someone as violent as me, even if I didn't remember it.

It was only a year or so after coming to Hogwarts that I finally managed to discover what was wrong with me.

After having left wool's orphanage my mother went back to her own, from where she was promptly kicked for having disgraced the family in marrying and sprouting the spawn of a muggle. I can only imagine the horrors I read in her own diary. My twin brother, would end up falling ill to a cold from which he never recovered. That's when my mother did what would, all matters considered, ruin my own life. Instead of letting him die peacefully she performed a ritual, very dark magic, which transferred the entirety of his soul into my body, keeping him alive, even if only because he now shared my body.

Eventually she would succumb to the severe magic loss the ritual required, leaving me in the orphanage, of which story you already know.

And so there is another soul in my body: my brother's. However, contrary to my mother's belief, as she shows in that letter, we don't "share the same mind". We are different beings in the same body, and for one to come forth, the other as to go back. Hence that diary you have in your hands. It's our "means of communication" so to speak. Every night, whether it's me or him, we always write detailed accounts of our day to day life, so however wakes up can read and move around with arising any suspicion not knowing something."

Hermione was light headed. How could she believe such a tale? And there was so much proof lacking. That diary if his mother for example. Where was it? After all, it had been his major source of information about what he had told her.

"Your mother's diary. Can I see it?"

"I'm afraid not. My brother and I… we don't quite see eye to eye in some matters. The moment he woke up and realized what it was, he destroyed it. He didn't want any proof of his existence. And most of all, he didn't want there to be any proof that he was the son of a muggleborn, and, as he calls our mother "stupid ignorant little witch", who was enough of a fool to let his bother succumb to a cold. He has always been quite angry about that, and is very much resented on having to live such a partial life. We are constantly looking for anything, a spell, a ritual, that will separate as again into two different beings."

"That is quite the tale"

"You don't really believe me do you?"

"To tell you the truth, no, I don't. It's quite a difficult tale to believe."

"I know. But you've met him already."

"How do you know, if you supposedly 'step back' when he comes forward?" her voice was suspicious. She was almost sure she had caught him in his lie.

To her surprise, he laughed.

"That diary. He told me of what happened last week. He was quite angry, when he woke up and found you hovering over him, with is minions watching his every step." He opened the dairy to the right page and showed her. She handwriting was slightly different than the regular one she saw in most of the pages. And he was indeed quite angry. She remembered the red eyes.

"When you woke up… you had red eyes." She said.

"My brother's. The result of the ritual my mother did. My brother usually wears a glamour over them, but naturally then he didn't really have the time."

And everything suddenly started to fit together. The mood swings, his distant personality. And the diary seemed to prove it. Every so often the handwriting changed, just a little bit. The tone behind what was written was harsher. She was truly reading Lord Voldemort's words then.

"So... you're not Lord Voldemort?"

"No I am not. And l'd like to know, how exactly you know my brother's name."

She sighed.

Maybe it was her time to come clean.

She could only hope she was doing the right thing. Otherwise she would be giving Lord Voldemort too much knowledge to do any good.

"You say your brother can't see your memories, nor your knowledge."

"Yes, he can't. And I can't see his either."

"I need you to promise me. No I need you to swear an oath, you won't tell him anything of what I'm about to tell you."

"I've stopped talking about you with him for quite some time. He doesn't really like you, not only because you're a muggleborn, but also because he knows virtually nothing about you."

"Swear."

And so he did, much to her surprise. Magic now bound him to secrecy.

"I was born in 19 September 1979. My parents were both muggles, happy to have their little daughter, even if sometimes, odd things seemed to happen around her. And it was so that, on my eleventh birthday…"

And so she told him everything. Not stopping to breath more than what was necessary. After so many months, she was finally opening up to someone. The fact that that someone seemed to share his body with the future dark lord did not matter to her. Nor the fact that she had believed him so easily.

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><p>Thanks to all of you, who have supported this fanfiction. I'll update the next chapter as soon as I can. :)<p>

Lady Featherweight


	20. Chapter 20

Hello.

Only one more chapter left. :D

And I'll update tomorrow too. :p

So, computer issues have been solved. Just as this story is nearly finished. I hope you like it. Like I said, it was planned to this ending since the beginning, and it always walked in such direction. I'd love to hear your guesses, or if you had seen it coming or not.

Anyway, read and enjoy. It was a long ride, with too long a stop in the middle, but it's nearly over now. Makes me strangely nostalgic already. x)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. and I'm only playing around with them.

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><p>It was with some awkwardness on both endings that they began to spend their days together like they had back in the orphanage. But soon things began to beat to a steady rhythm and their life's began to be in sync with one another's once again. They had breakfast, lunch and dinner together, studied together, each researching is own interests, for the first time, with someone to share them with, took walks together. Only one of those days did Hermione have to herself. The day right before Christmas eve, it had been Lord Voldemort waking up in the morning, and not Tom. She did not know how she managed to tell the difference, since the red eyes were naturally under a glamour, but she was glad she did.<p>

That was quite the lonely day. Something she suddenly found herself not used to.

"How did you do it?" he asked the next morning.

"Do what?" she asked back. She was very cheerful for not having to spend another day without his presence.

"How did you recognize him? He didn't write anything out of ordinary about you in the diary, so you must have recognized him."

"I did. It was the way he looked at me really. His eyes were much colder than yours."

"My eyes are warm?" his soft smile made a mess of her insides. They sitting in the astrology tower, leaning against the wall, and profusely dressed for it was a very cold day. The floor was covered in snow that had fallen the night before, but the sky was the clearest blue it had been for quite some days. They hadn't resisted the opportunity of sitting beneath it for some time, even if that meant they had to bear the cold air that came with it.

"Yes." She answered looking right at them. "When you want them to be."

"Good thing I do want."

That was the first time they kissed. At least to Hermione. The other two hadn't really counted. Not with the situations they had been in.

Christmas itself was a sad day for Hermione. Even if she now had a friend (maybe even boyfriend, with how close they were getting) to lean on, the absence of all the friendly faces she was used to really made it a sad day in the calendar.

Tom didn't even blink at her sad mood. He simply supported her in his quite silent manner she was growing to love.

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><p>I between Christmas and New Year the couple dived head on into their studies. Hermione wanted to gather as much knowledge as she could. Everything worth remembering she read and wrote in a small Emerald green notebook Tom had given her as a Christmas present. Much like his own, it was charmed to have as many pages as one could write on. Needless to say she was enchanted, and had even visited Dumbledore as a consequence.<p>

"Can you please make sure this purse is delivered to me, after I've gone back to my own time?" she showed him the beaded purse she always carried around.

"Of course my dear. When you leave, and that purse remains behind, I shall keep it safe and give it to you when the time to do so is right."

She was of course, very relieved. Everything she ever possessed went with her everywhere inside that purse.

Tom, on his part, was even more enthusiastic in his search for a way to separate himself from his brother. That particular kind of research was, of course, more risky, since more often than not, he was studying dark arts, but it was done nonetheless. Hermione was the motivation he had always needed to be able to be in full control of his own body.

And on New Year's eve, he finally found the spell he had been looking for, for years.

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><p>"Hermione! Hermione!" He shouted, running all the way to the astronomy tower. They had slowly began considering it their little nest.<p>

That day, 31st December, was a clear cold night. The stars shone brightly in the sky, brighter than Hermione ever remembered seeing them.

"Finally decided to grace me with your presence?" she asked, a smile on her face at seeing how happy he looked. He had spent the entire day in the dungeons, studying a book he had snatched from the library, and completely forgetting any notion of time.

It didn't take him a single second to hold her in his arms and kiss more passionately than he ever had. Their tongues mingled with one another, their teeth collided.

"I found it," he breathed the moment they separated.

"Found what?" she asked, her mind still numb from the kiss. She had never experienced something as intense as that.

"The spell. I know how to separate me and my brother."

The joy in his voice was contagious.

Hermione pouted.

"Damn. That's much better than what I had planned," she joked, laughing at his confused face.

"I'm so happy for you" she breathed in his year. "You don't deserve to share your body with such a monster as your brother."

"I'm still sad that he will turn out to be like that." He answered.

"I know my sweet. But let us not worry about that. Tonight it's just you and me, alright?"

It was then that he saw the picnic towel and basket she had set up for both of them.

She kissed him. "Happy birthday."

Son entranced he had been, he hadn't realized it was his birthday. He smiled. No one had ever remembered his birthday, nor done anything so nice as preparing him a gift.

"Thank you." His blue eyes shone.

That night, as the year changed, they celebrated. And under the stars, they made love for the first time.

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><p>It was four in the morning. Hermione was sound asleep in her bed, completely content and exhausted of the full day she had had. Preparing a picnic like the one she had, was a very tiresome task.<p>

Tom was still up and about, in the middle of his common room.

He didn't even want to think about going to sleep. What if his brother woke up in his stead? He could still feel Hermione's kisses in his mouth, her scent in his nose, his body naked and warm against his.

He couldn't betray that. He couldn't let his brother realize how much he loved that woman, because he did. Most honestly.

And that was the reason we was still up, reading and rereading the small manuscript he had gotten his hands into.

If all went well a clone of his body would be created. And his brother would live in it.

He didn't want to think about what would happen if anything went wrong. One prefers not to think about such things, when mingling with the dark arts.

But this spell didn't even seem to belong in such category. Really… It looked positively armless.

And that scared him.

Do not trust the dark arts. That's what life had told him.

But he did.

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><p>Albus Dumbledore was not a person easy to surprise. He was however, surprised at the sudden relationship between his most recent protégée and young Tom Riddle. He even had his questions about it.<p>

But he said nothing. The girl was mature enough to know what she was doing.

However he was even more surprised when he woke up to a sudden burst of magic, dark magic, echoing through the halls.

In the Slytherin common rom he only found a fainted Tom Riddle, an old manuscript and a letter addressed to Hermione. As fast as he could he got the boy to the infirmary. And in half an hour he had read through the manuscript that had been in the boy's possession. A changed version of something that was in his own library. Something he had read once upon a time. A spell that was but a way to eliminate the soul out of one's body, making it a vegetable of sorts. Young Tom Riddle stirred in his bed and opened two big blue eyes to the world.

Dumbledore was shocked. The boy had just killed his own soul. How could he be waking up?

Unless…

No… It wasn't possible.

"Professor Dumbledore?" the boy said, the picture of perfect innocence. Never had he looked like that.

Dumbledore did something he would regret for many years to come. He turned around and left.

Maybe if he had tried to understand. Maybe if he had tried to help… Maybe things would have been different.

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><p>Next (and last!) chapter will be up in a while. Hope you like it. :D<p>

Lady Featherweight


	21. Chapter 21

Hi. And this is the last one.

I'm not going to write much here. Just go on and read. Hope you like it. :)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter therefore all recognizable characters in this story belong to J. and I'm only playing around with them.

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><p>Hermione Granger was nowhere to be found. Dumbledore looked at the messed up bed sheets, at the beaded bag beside the pillow. It seemed that it would take some years for the letter young Tom Riddle had left for her to be delivered.<p>

As for her absence, only three young Gryffindors mourned it.

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><p>She couldn't believe it.<p>

After so many months, she found herself waking up once again in the middle of that damn forest. But this time she knew in which direction to go. She could hear the fight happening in the fair. It wasn't difficult to locate herself.

And how strange it was to see herself, fighting, shouting curse after curse. Of course she had already seen her past self, once upon a time, but it was always something quite odd to experience.

It was when she looked at her parents that she almost shouted with joy. They were alive! She could still save them!

She began working as quickly as she could she substitute them for transfigured rocks and sticks. Full of flaws, but no one would realize it in the middle of the confusion. After all, she hadn't, and they were her parents. She had happy tears running down her face, at seeing them lying down beside her (stunned of course).

It was then that she started hearing the final part of the fight. And the last piece of the puzzle clicked in her head. After all, time was, perfectly circular.

And she had sent herself to the past.

"_Corrigere ordene_!" she shouted. And a funny colored spell hit her, just before the green one did.

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><p>Her parents were asking too many questions.<p>

It was strange, being back home after such a long time. And yet, to them, they had only spent one day out.

How was she going to it? She was an adult to the wizarding world, but not the muggle one. And even if she were, they would never let her leave. Not angry and scared as they were after what they had seen. She had no choice really. It would be better for them.

"Obliviate"

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><p>They were very happy to see her. How lucky she had been to have survived a death eater attack.<p>

Of course that sending her parents to Australia wasn't exactly the most cheerful thing one could do. No wonder she was so sad all the time. Even if she was already with them for an entire week. Harry and Ron did not know what else to do.

* * *

><p>She couldn't believe she missed him. But of course she did. How could she not? Yes, yes, he was Lord Voldemort's brother. Yes, he split his body with that same Dark Lord. But she had loved him nonetheless. And she hadn't even had time to say goodbye.<p>

And now she looked younger again. Not that those months made much of a difference but she could notice the changes. Her body would grow normally, and on January first it would finally catch up with the past. At least, that's what she had read. It was strange though, the knowledge that if she made a scratch and it left a scar, it would disappear somewhere around January first. That she was a virgin once again, and would stop being so around that time either. Quite complicated to understand really.

She looked around. Ginny was lying with her belly to the mattress, a magazine in her hands. Hermione caught the subtle glances she sent in Harry's way. Maybe she was a bit jealous that Ginny could still look at the one she loved.

Harry and Ron were playing wizarding chess. There, in that room, in the middle of the Burrow, they almost looked like regular teenagers, having a quiet time after a very heavy lunch, provided of course, by Mrs. Weasly.

An owl broke all of them out of their little bubbles. Ron got up to open the window, and it flew straight to Hermione's legs dropping a package in them. None of them made any notice of the owl leaving. Who would send Hermione a package?

They didn't dare open it before checking it's safety, each of them having a turn at it with their wands.

Tears sprouted from her eyes the moment she saw the beaded bag. An exact copy of the one she had. But this one had been prepared for months on the run. She had forgotten the favor she had asked Dumbledore. How glad she was he hadn't. There were countless memories in that bag. And of course, looking at the practical side, there were also countless things she had stored up, that would come in handy.

Underneath the bag there were to letters, both addressed to her.

One from Tom, and one from Dumbledore.

She opened Tom's first, ignoring the inquisitive looks her friends were sending her. She would explain later.

"January 1st, 1943

Dear Hermione,

You have no idea how happy you have made me tonight. No ever cared for me as you do, and I must say, that I love. Most deeply.

I have not had the courage to tell you now, but I will tomorrow. It shall be the first thing you hear from my lips. I promise.

I can practically see you smile as you read this. But I can only imagine your sleepy face as you wake up and see this letter beside your pillow (do not worry, I did not invade you dorm. I shall ask a house elf to deliver it to you).

It's three and something in the morning. I'm sure you are sound asleep by now. I will never forget the sweet night you gave me. It was the best birthday gift I ever had.

And I'm afraid of not waking up tomorrow. I don't want my brother to take my place. For the first time… I dread that moment. So I'm going to try that spell I found. I know it's sudden. But one can hope right? And when you wake up and read this, my sweat, I shall be waiting for you in front of the fat lady. No longer will we have the threat of my brother over us.

Hope you slept well.

Yours forever,

Tom Marvolo Riddle."

There was no stopping the tears now. And it only got worse after Dumbledore's letter. It told her of what he had found, and the theories he had generated. He apologized for having read the letter young Tom and sent her, but it had come to confirm his suspicions. In the attempt separate himself from his brother, young Tom Riddle had killed himself, leaving his brother (whom she knew to be Lord Voldemort) in his place.

The professor believed young Tom Riddle had been set up, seeing as the documents he had read were wrong. Someone had wanted him to die. And Hermione could guess who. She just didn't understand how he had done it. How had he managed to fool his own brother, when he had so little control of the body.

There wasn't one conclusion she could come to. Lord Voldemort was a dark wizard and that would have to justify it.

Decades away, she grieved her lost love, who had died in the attempt at having her all to himself. In the attempt of finally having his body all to himself.

* * *

><p>It wasn't easy for them to understand what was happening to their friend.<p>

They read the letters. And she told them every single thing she had lived through in the past months. Never had Harry, Ron and Ginny been such silent listeners.

* * *

><p>War and peace come and go with the tide. Wars leave devastation behind, peace brings life to those who survived.<p>

It was a beautiful August afternoon. Harry Potter was flying around in his broom with Teddy, teaching tricks of all kinds. Ginny was sitting beside Hermione, Little Lily in her lap. The other small ones were running around the garden, playing tag. Ron was inside, preparing lemonade.

"Where is Tom?" Ginny asked looking around.

Hermione too did not know where the child was. He had just been playing tag along with is brothers and cousins.

"Lemonade!" Ron shouted from the door.

"Darling?" Hermione asked.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Tom?"

Ron kissed her lips.

"Relax Mione. He's inside."

In the Kitchen little Tom sat alone, looking somberly at the lemonade in front of him. The picture of is mother and father sat in his lap. The only picture he had of _him_.

"Still nervous little bug?" Ron's voice sounded from behind him.

"A bit." Tom answered.

"Oh come on! Look at you! You have nothing to be worried about. With that black hair and those blue eyes you'll charm all the ladies before you know it."

"But that's it dad. I look nothing like you or mom. My brother and sister don't look like me at all. People will know I'm _his_ son and not yours. And they'll say mean stuff".

"John Thomas Riddle Weasley. You will always be my son, no matter what happens. Sure your uncle was a really bad guy, but your father? He helped you mother in a time when she really needed help. He was a good man. Never forget that."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Of course I do Tom. Look at him." Ron pointed at the picture in Tom's lap. In it Tom Riddle was picking a younger Hermione from the floor, and twirling her around in the middle of the snow. Both were smiling so much one would think they weren't shivering from the cold. In the distance, once could see Hogwarts.

"You'll have a great time at Hogwarts son. Just like we all did."

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><p>Tell me what's in your mind. :)<p>

Lady Featherweight.


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